6, Destiny Part 2 Avalon
by Penelope-Jane-Avalon
Summary: This is a continuation of Destiny my first story. It continues the story of Lancelot after he went through the veil in the Isle of the Blessed.
Destiny Part 2 Avalon

The first thing Lancelot noticed was that he could breathe again. He could breathe without pain or effort. In fact all the pain that had racked his body since Morgana's bolt had buried itself in his chest, seemed to be just ebbing away.

This must be death, he thought and that thought made him afraid. He had walked too long in the land of the dead and he did not think he could bear to return to that desolate world again. All he wanted was the light, the stars, and his lost family.

He was aware that his eyes were closed, but he could not make himself try and open them. He was too fearful of what he would see.

Then he noticed the sounds around him, the sounds of water lapping against wood. His hand, which seemed to have been resting on his chest slipped off and fell against something hard and rough.

He moved his fingers. He could feel…wood? More importantly, he could actually feel!

Maybe he was not dead after all.

Tentatively, he opened one eye.

He was lying in the bottom of a large wooden boat, which seemed to be moving steadily across water. But there were no oarsmen and no sail was raised. Just one man stood in the prow of the boat.

As if sensing that Lancelot had woken, the man turned.

He smiled.

"Sir Lancelot, I see you wake. Are you feeling better?"

Lancelot opened both eyes.

"Yes…yes. I feel…no pain. But where am I? This boat? Where are you taking me?"

"To the Isle of Avalon. I am taking you somewhere where you will be fully restored and where you will have a different life."

"A different life?" asked Lancelot, attempting to sit up and finding that he could do so with relative ease.

"Why yes. You have suffered more than most men in the service of your King, and yet despite your suffering, you have served with honour and fortitude. This, Sir Lancelot, is your reward."

Lancelot got to his feet and clutching the side of the boat to keep his balance, stared out across the water.

Ahead he could see land, green hills, mountains, the spires and turrets of a great palace and in the far distance a tall solitary tower. If this was an island, it was a vast one and certainly no place he had ever seen either as a spirit or in his mortal life.

He sat down again, this time on one of the bench seats. He clenched the wood hard with his fingers

Yes, this was a real boat and as far as he could tell he was neither dreaming nor, more importantly, was he dead.

As the boat neared a wooden jetty, the boatman told Lancelot that he was called Kay. It was his job, he explained, to pilot the boat to wherever it was most needed. The island was ruled by Lady Vivienne, an ancient, immortal, sorceress, whose powers transcended space and time. Here on Avalon was the source of all magic. From its centre flowed the magic that circled the world.

No mortal could find the island without the boat nor could any alight on its shores without the permission and protection of The Lady of the Lake.

'You my friend," said Kay to Lancelot, "are one of the very few mortals to be allowed to set foot on the magic soil of Avalon and only one of a handful who are actually allowed to remain."

"But why?" asked Lancelot, as he stepped out onto the jetty.

"Why am I in this place?"

"Lancelot, this world is full of magic and it flows through all of us like a river. Your King, Arthur Pendragon, would not have been born without magic. He is the saviour of the five kingdoms and although some day he may appear to die, one day, when the five kingdoms are in greatest peril, he will return.

When he returns he will need his finest knights and you, Sir Lancelot are the very finest. But you cannot serve if you are dust and so you must rest here. Your time in Camelot is over, but I hope you will find a place here with us until you are needed again."

Lancelot did not know how to reply. All he could really feel was relief. Apparently, despite a wound that would surely have killed him, he was alive and best of all, he had not been sent back to the darkness of the spirit world. What ever happened to him in this strange place, it could not be worse than that.

"I am at your service," he said.

Kay tied off the boat and led Lancelot along paved walkways and into the palace, which he had first seen from the boat.

It seemed as large as the castle of Camelot, but the roofs and spires were covered in gold and it sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight.

As they climbed a staircase they passed other people, although Lancelot wasn't exactly sure if he could describe them as such. For, they were the 'people' of his childhood, storybooks. There were small stocky men and women, dressed in the colours of the earth. Then there were slender women, dressed in backless robes that allowed for the beating of their diaphanous multicoloured wings. They seemed to hover just above the ground and their wings made the faintest humming sound.

They gazed with interest at Lancelot and he heard their bell like laughter as he stared open-mouthed at them.

Kay grinned. "The fairy women are lovely," he said, but they find we humans amusing. They do not understand how we can bear life without flight. The dwarves are more like us, more 'grounded' you might say, but you will find most here, friendly and kind."

Kay opened some double doors and stood back gesturing Lancelot to go inside.

He walked into an apartment, the like of which he had never seen. The walls were hung with tapestries and golden sconces held many candles. Ornate chairs were grouped around a fireplace and through another doorway; he could see a vast canopied bed. The windows of both rooms were wide open and afforded a beautiful view of the palace gardens and the water beyond. The air was perfumed with the scent of flowers and butterflies fluttered around the many flowering trees.

"This is your apartment. Please rest awhile. You have more healing to do before you will feel fully yourself again. You will find all the clothes you need and your man servant will be along in a few hours to assist you."

"My manservant? I am no nobleman. I won the title of knight by deeds, not by my birth. I don't think I need…."

"Lancelot, you are so much more than you will ever acknowledge and tonight, I have been told, you will find out who you really are. Please rest now."

And then Lancelot was left alone in his magnificent rooms to ponder on his fate. He stared out of the window at the water and as he watched, a flock of seagulls swooped low over the water. If anyone had asked him, he would have said that he was looking out at the ocean, not a lake, and yet the ocean was far from Camelot.

He heard a sound behind him and turned to see a young man dressed in nothing but a pair of brown knee breeches. His wings made a slight swishing sound and he grinned at Lancelot.

"I know," he said cheekily, "I am not like the servants where you come from but I am your man servant just the same. My name is Leif. I have been told to suggest that you rest for a while in order that your wounds may be fully healed. Then this evening, I will come to you, to organise your bath and your clothes for the evening meal. I will also show you round the castle and grounds so that you may not get lost."

Lancelot was at a loss for words, but he did suddenly feel very tired.

"I think I will lie down for a little while," he murmured, "and then I would be glad of a little er …..assistance. I feel a bit confused by all of this."

As Lancelot lay down on the sumptuous bed, sleep took him almost before he had time to close his eyes and when he woke the sun was already setting.

He had barely time to put his feet on the floor, before the fairy returned baring an armful of clothes.

He dropped them onto a chair and with a flick of his fingers, announced that, behind the screen, Lancelot's bath was waiting.

"I suggest the green jacket for this evening, " he said brightly.

"Green is our lady's colour and she will be most pleased to see you dressed as one of her own."

Lancelot nodded, vaguely, still completely bemused by his new circumstances.

The water of the waiting bath was the perfect temperature and when Lancelot had finished washing, his new servant offered him towels that were more luxurious than any Lancelot had ever used.

The clothes were similarly impressive and so well did they fit, they could have been specifically made for him.

Fully dressed, he gazed at himself in a long mirror.

He looked well, fit and healthy, not at all like a man who only recently had been on the brink of death or prior to that, wandered for years in the spirit world.

Leif offered Lancelot an ornate belt complete with dagger in a jewelled sheath and then stood back to admire the finished effect.

"The Lady Vivienne has waited so long for this day," he said happily, "for you have been much on her mind these past years."

"I have?" asked Lancelot, "Why….I mean…. Why would this Lady Vivienne be in any way interested in me."

Leif gave him a knowing smile. "You would be surprised. Let's just say I have known of your existence for many years, but enough of that. It is not my place to speak of such things. Let me guide you down to the great hall. It will take you a while before you become familiar with the Lady Vivienne's palace and lands."

Lancelot shrugged.

"Then lead on, for with every minute I grow more a confused and bewildered."

The Great Hall was lit with what seemed like a thousand tiny lights, but if they were candles Lancelot could not see the sticks or the flames. The lights danced and moved around the walls and provided more than enough light for him to see clearly the assembled guests.

As was customary, the tables and benches were laid out in rows and at them sat dwarves, fairies and others who looked to Lancelot as human as himself.

On a raised platform in front of beautifully coloured tapestries sat the Lady Vivienne herself and on her right side, Kay the boatman. Not that Kay looked like a simple boatman any more. He was richly dressed and looked as fine as any of the great Lords or knights of Camelot.

As Lancelot entered the room, a hush descended over the tables and everyone turned in his direction.

Lancelot took a deep breath. He felt almost dizzy and he had the strangest feeling.

He had never been to this place before, he knew that, and yet there was something, some fragment of memory tugging at his mind.

His eyes swept the room, in an effort to find a dark corner in which to take a seat, but Leif led him on and ushered him up onto the raised platform.

The Lady Vivienne rose from her seat and Lancelot gazed upon one of the most exsquisite creatures he had ever seen.

She was tall and slim with auburn hair that fell in waves down to her waist. Her smooth, skin glowed in the glittering lights and her dress seemed to ripple with a thousand shades of green, one second the colour of spring grass, the next the deeper hues of a stormy sea.

However, the most compelling thing about her, were her eyes. Large, luminous and flecked with gold, as her gaze fell upon Lancelot, he felt as if she could see right through to his very soul.

She held out her hand to Lancelot and he bowed and brushed his lips against her glowing skin.

"My….my lady," he stammered.

As he started to rise, once more his eyes met hers and what he saw reflected there, left him even more bewildered. Recognition, joy, love, regret and sadness. All these emotions were mirrored in her beautiful eyes.

He did not understand and his expression must have said as much, for immediately she was ushering him into a chair on her left side.

She smiled then and waved a hand to the winged servants who commenced serving the food and filling the glasses.

"Please enjoy our feast," the lady said, "for it is in your honour and while we eat perhaps you will tell me of all your adventures in Camelot and how your path eventually led you to Avalon."

"As it pleases, you, my lady," answered Lancelot, his eyes firmly fixed on the goblet of wine in front of him. He was going to need a lot of that to get through this meal!

But the evening meal seemed to fly by and Lancelot found himself telling his life story without any problem at all. After their initial introduction, this strange enigmatic woman had a way of making him feel completely relaxed. He hardly noticed the strange, servants or the rest of the guests at the tables below him. It was almost as if he had eaten in this magical place many, many times before.

Lancelot was not used to blowing his own trumpet and there were events in his past that he would rather forget…..things that might not have been his fault, but things of which he was nevertheless, ashamed.

Despite this the Lady Vivienne somehow managed to coax his entire life story from him over the space of some seven courses. At times she would move her chair back so that Kay could join in the conversation and in fact, had it not been for the unusual congregation at the other tables, Lancelot might have been seated in the great hall of any lord in the five kingdoms.

The food was delicious, like nothing he had ever tasted before. There was some fish, but no meat of any kind. Strangely, the banquet did not seem to suffer from its absence.

Lancelot had always secretly hated the time of year when the family pigs were slaughtered. Some of the pigs were so friendly and it seemed to the young Lancelot, that it was a betrayal of their trust, to slit their throats when they thought they were coming for a nice turnip or a juicy apple.

When the meal was finally finished, Lady Vivienne leant over and whispered something in Kay's ear. He smiled, nodded and left the table.

The Lady got to her feet.

"Walk with me," she said to Lancelot.

She took Lancelot's arm and led him away from the hall. They walked through the corridors and on out into the moonlight.

Lancelot felt strangely nervous. He still did not understand why he was here on the island, nor why such a great sorceress should be taking an interest in him. However, he sensed all was about to be revealed.

"What do you remember of your early, childhood?" asked the lady, softly.

Lancelot was surprised by her question. It was not what he had expected. Had he not just given the Lady Vivienne his entire life story?

But it would have been rude to point that out. So he answered politely.

"My childhood?" he told her, "Why it was a happy childhood, as happy as anyone could ever have wanted."

"Your parents were good to you?"

"Very. Had they not been killed, by a raid on our village I doubt I would ever have left my home. I would have helped my father manage our farm and eventually it would have passed to me."

"So you never wanted to be a knight?"

"No….no. Not at all. It was only after I lost them all that I discovered my skill as a swordsman and then I had only one aim, to become a knight of Camelot."

"And why Camelot? There are may other Kings and princes and all have their own retainers. What made Camelot so special?"

Lancelot was silent for a moment. When he had sought a place in Camelot, Albion had still been ruled over by Uther. Uther was a strong king, but a ruthless one and his regime was, in many ways, no better than that of other rulers in the neighbouring kingdoms. So why had it been so important for him to succeed in Camelot?

"I cannot really give you a reason. I just knew it was where I wanted to be, where I wanted to serve."

"And serve you did, with more honour and nobility than almost any other man. You did well Lancelot and if your parents had lived they would have been as proud of you as I am."

"You My Lady? You are proud of me?"

The Lady took his hand and pulled him down onto a stone seat, beside her.

"Yes Lancelot, for you are MY son."

Lancelot's mouth dropped open. For a few seconds he was speechless.

"But, but….how can that be? My mother was Veronica, wife of Ban Du Lac"

"Your father was indeed Ban and a finer man you could not wish to find. He had your kind eyes and your smile and from the moment I saw him, I loved him.

Don't say anything, Lancelot. Let me just tell you my story, for when it is done, you will better understand how you have come to live in this place.

I do not always stay here on the island. I can, and often do, walk among mortals. I like to see first hand what is happening and when you have lived as long as I have, you crave variety and new experiences.

Often on my travels, I use my powers to heal the sick or just to help those in need.

One day, I saw your father. He was walking along the edge of the lake and he was weeping. He had fallen in love with a young woman from a neighbouring village but she had died of a terrible fever, just weeks before they were due to marry.

His sorrow touched my heart.

I went to talk to him and I used my powers to help him forget. It was a summer's evening and we lay for hours in a meadow full of flowers.

When the morning came, I told him that I loved him and that I wanted him to come to my island. I told him that he would never need to mourn again for I am immortal and if he would come with me, then he too would never die.

I remember the look in his eyes. He told me that he would like nothing more than to come with me, but he had responsibilities. His parents were old and they needed him to manage the family farm and to care for them. If he left them alone, he knew they would not be able to cope.

I used all my powers of persuasion, but he was adamant. He was like you, dear Lancelot, a man of honour and integrity.

So I returned to my island and he to his village. If nothing else, our meeting had made his grief that bit less intense and he was able to move on with his life and forget his lost love.

It was not so easy for me to forget, for nine months later you were born.

I was so happy. You were the most beautiful child a mother could ever have wished for and every moment I spent with you was a delight.

But something told me that the mortal world needed you. I consulted with my sisters and others of my kind and all agreed that I could not keep you just for my own happiness.

So just as you were leaning to speak and walk I took you to your father's house.

Nearly two and a half years had passed and he was newly married to Veronica.

Just watching her for a short time, I knew that she would make a perfect mother for you.

I left you sleeping in a basket on their doorstep.

When they found you, though they tried hard to find your real mother, there was never any doubt that they would keep you."

Lancelot was speechless. Just like the baby he had found on the miller's doorstep, he too had been a foundling and yet nothing about the way his mother had treated him would ever have made him think, that he was anything other than her first born son.

"But why don't I remember you? Surely I would have remembered something, some sense of loss, some sort of recognition when I saw you again…..something"

Vivienne smiled, sadly.

"I could make you forget your own name, if it was necessary," she said. "I did not want you to remember me. What purpose would it have served, other than to make you unhappy? As it was, you loved your Veronica from the moment she took you from the basket."

Lancelot shook his head.

"I find all this very hard to believe."

"And yet, it is true and that is why you are here. The Cailleach and her kind did not want you in the land of the dead. Your mortal blood is mingled with mine and as such it is hard for you to move on. Instead of a normal, mortal demise, you were trapped in the terrible dark, place that is neither life nor death.

Others choose that dreadful place. Though their mortal life has ended, they will not leave the earth. They haunt those they have loved, or more often those they have hated. You must have encountered these tormented souls, but you walked among them only because of your immortal blood. Unlike them, you were not driven by grief or revenge to terrify or cause havoc. You retained all your honour and all that made you the man you are. While others lashed out, you learnt how to use what ghostly, powers you had for the good of human kind. As the rulers of the world of the dead waited with eager arms for those they thought were within their grasp, you would find a way to intervene. I myself watched as you saved that little child.

The rulers of the spirit world wanted you gone. Why else would the Cailleach have allowed you back through the veil? The dead guard their citizens as greedily as the living."

"But Merlin said….."

"It suited the Cailleach to dispose of you, hence she agreed with Merlin's arguments. She allowed him to think that he had 'negotiated' your return, rather than admit weakness.

Rather than admit that she could not control you, she let you go.

You were and always will be, out of her reach."

Lancelot was silent.

He supposed that what Lady Vivienne was telling him was true, for it certainly explained a lot and yet, at the same time he had never doubted, for one moment, that Veronica had been his mother.

And then he recalled something he had not thought of in years.

He remembered sitting on his grandmother's lap in front of the fire and her calling him "Our little cuckoo."

When he had asked her why, she had said it was because the Cuckoo was her favourite bird. His call always heralded the coming of summer.

"So am I your favourite Grandma?" he had asked.

And she had smiled and said "You are special my child. When you came, it was a wonderful day."

Now he thought about that conversation he saw it in a different light.

Just as the Cookoo leaves other birds to rear its young, so Lady Vivienne had left the rearing of her child to another woman.

"I know this is a lot for you to take in," said Lady Vivienne, but I hope in time you will come to be happy here on my island. It is my greatest wish for you and I to get to know each other again and since you cannot go back to Camelot, we have all the time in the world."

"But what will I DO here?" asked Lancelot.

"Does a sorceress need an army of knights to defend her? Are there others like me here?"

She shook her head.

"Dear Lancelot, I do not need you to protect me. I only want to make you happy. But just like my dear Kay, I feel you will not be able to pass your time at leisure.

So I have a proposal to make to you.

The boat that brought you here is hewn from the wood of ancient apple trees that grew on this island. It has magic more powerful than you can imagine.

For most of the time, the boat brings visitors to the island, but at other times Kay takes the boat and finds people who need help. He pulls drowning men from the oceans, lakes and rivers of the mortal world. He plucks wounded men from the shores and they are healed, just by lying in the boat. It gives him a purpose, for like you, before he came here, he was a warrior.

He was a knight from one of the five kingdoms, but unlike your dear father, he was prepared to leave all he knew for a life, here, with me. In truth he had no close living family and I fear that if he had, like dear Ban, he would never have given up his mortal life.

He is happy here now, but he and I would like it if you would share his work with him. What do you think?

Would that please you? Having been brought up by water, I know that you are familiar with boats."

Lancelot nodded, "Yes, yes I am. My uncle Cedric du Lac had a boat and, as a young boy, I often sailed with him. I should like to help Kay very much."

Vivienne squeezed his hand.

"Then it is settled."

She got up and Lancelot stood up immediately.

"No," she murmured, "You sit here awhile. You need time to take in everything I have told you. Though I have the wisdom of many thousands of years years, I could not find an easier way of telling you the truth about your birth."

She turned to go back to the palace, but then she paused for a moment.

"Oh and Lancelot, although it would make me so happy, I do not expect you to call me 'mother'. That title belongs to Veronica who was more mother to you, than I have ever been."

And then she was gone and Lancelot was left alone.

Everything had changed again and he felt as if the rug had been pulled from under his feet. His mother a sorceress, his new world a magical island, that mortals could not see.

When would this constant change to his circumstances ever end?

As he climbed into his huge bed, he felt as if he would never sleep. His head was spinning and it all seemed just too much to take in.

Nevertheless, sleep came and his dreams were full of places and people he had never seen before and Camelot seemed a distant memory.

Leif woke Lancelot with a breakfast of strange fruits and cheeses and a drink of crystal clear water that sparkled and fizzed in the morning sunlight. Outside the sky was a brilliant blue and colourful birds flew past the window, calling to each other.

Leif laid out a pair of plain, brown breeches and a loose shirt.

"This is all you will need for the day," he assured Lancelot. "Any other clothes or supplies you might require, you will find in the boat. When you are ready, call me and I will take you to meet Sir Kay.

When Lancelot walked down the wooden jetty, Kay was checking over some fishing lines,

He greeted Lancelot cheerfully.

"Climb aboard, my friend and we shall set sail."

He grinned, "I see you are surprised that we need a sail, Lancelot, but once we are away from the proximity of the island, the boat must be propelled like any other, either by the oars or under sail."

Lancelot insisted on helping and as they tied off the flapping canvas and the sail caught the wind, he felt his old skills returning.

"Do we know where we are going?" he asked.

Kay nodded.

"The compass will guide us. Come, let me show you."

Right in the prow of the boat was a small wooden platform and set within this was a circle of crystal. Strange symbols and hieroglyphics were carved around the edge, although they seemed to change all the time, and in the centre an arrow of deep purple amethyst, spun, idly round.

"We wait until the arrow stops, take note of the symbol beneath it and head in that direction.

Lancelot nodded but he was not at all sure that he understood.

As he watched, the arrow stopped spinning over a sign that resembled a ship with three masts.

"See," said Kay cheerfully, "this is our direction and we are looking for a large ship, or more likely the wreckage of one."

He went to the back of the boat and heaved on the tiller.

The sails filled with wind and the boat leapt forward.

The craft moved quickly and it was quite exhilarating, but as Lancelot breathed in the fresh air, he thought he caught the smell of the sea.

He looked back. They had left the shore of the island only minutes ago, yet the palace, the dark tower beyond, and the island itself had vanished. In fact although he turned a full 360 degrees, he could see no sight of land. He leant over the side and trailed his hand in the water. It was very cold and as he put his fingers to his lips, he tasted salt.

"We are at sea?" he asked in amazement.

"How can that be? Only moments ago, we were on the lake of Avalon and that is far from the ocean."

"So much you have to learn, my friend," answered Kay, patiently, "Allow me to explain.

There are only two ways to reach the island. One is by flight and the other is by this boat, from the shores of the lake.

Those with the power of flight are part of the magic of the island and they belong there. The only others who may fly there must do so on the back of another creature, a dragon for example and only a dragon-lord can control such a being.

But although the ways TO the island are very few, the ways FROM the shores of Avalon are boundless. The island does not follow the rules of space and time, as we mortals understand it, for it is not really part of the mortal world at all. On this boat we may seem to travel a thousand leagues in the space of a few hours. We may arrive in the future or the past. We just go where ever we are needed."

"But how do we find our way back?' asked Lancelot, now completely confused.

"Why, the amethyst will guide us. As long as we follow the direction of the arrow, we will find ourselves heading once more towards the shores of Avalon.

Lancelot's eyes opened wide in wonder. His world was spinning round again.

As they sailed onwards, the winds grew stronger and the air was filled with a salty spray.

Huge waves crashed against the prow of the boat, but the dragon fronted craft sailed on at speed.

Suddenly Lancelot caught sight of debris in the water. Large pieces of wood and a barrel topped the crest of a wave. Ahead was a larger piece of debris and clinging to it, were two men.

Both men were drenched through. Their clothes were ripped and torn and their faces blue with cold.

Kay wrestled with the sails to try and bring the boat close to the men's makeshift raft, but with the heavy swell, it was nigh on impossible.

"Toss me some of that rope," shouted Kay.

"I'll tie it round myself and then I'll swim to them. You can pull me back in."

"I can do that," offered Lancelot, "You are a better sailor than me. I do however swim very well."

Kay did not argue and Lancelot tied the rope securely round his waist and threw himself into the surging waters.

The men were further away than they looked from the boat and it was a hard swim, but Lancelot fought his way through the waves until he was clutching the battered raft.

"One of you, get into the water," he spluttered, "and my friend will pull us to our boat."

The older of the two men slid into the water and Lancelot grabbed him firmly and began to kick back towards Kay.

Kay pulled manfully on the rope and in no time he was hauling the man to safety.

"My friend," the man gasped, "he can't swim. He'll never get in the water…..afraid of them big fish. They've been swimming round us for ages."

"I will persuade him," Lancelot gasped, thinking privately that he wasn't afraid of a big fish!

At first the second man refused to budge, but just as Lancelot was about to climb onto the raft, the young man slid into the water.

Lancelot grabbed hold of him and keeping the young man's head above the water, Lancelot began to swim back towards Kay.

With Kay hauling them in on the rope, it was not difficult, but suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Lancelot saw a dark shadow flash by.

The young man cried out and began to panic. Lancelot kept swimming and as they bumped against the hull of the boat, Kay leant down and hauled the young man aboard.

What happened next was so quick, that Lancelot had no time to feel pain.

The black shape rose up from the depths, jagged white teeth gleaming through the spray.

Lancelot was seized in the giant jaws and then flung into the air.

As he fell back into the surging sea, he was aware of the water around him turning red with blood…his blood.

He kicked for the surface and reached for his only weapon, his knife, which was tucked into its sheath on his belt.

As the great black fish came for him again, Lancelot kicked out. Somehow he managed to avoid the gaping jaws and stab the huge predator in the eye.

The blade was wrenched from his hand as the fish flashed past and Lancelot thought that now he would surely die. As he waited for the fish to attack again he thought how strange it was that this new beginning would be over in the blink of an eye. Still, he supposed, at the very least he had saved two lives.

But then he found himself being dragged through the water faster than he could ever swim and pulled from the water so quickly that the half blind, black, fish's jaws snapped on nothing but air.

As he tumbled into the bottom of the boat, Lancelot heard gasps of horror from the men he had rescued and he himself groaned as he looked down at the gaping wound in his side.

His blood seemed to be flowing out of his body like a red river.

Kay pushed the two men aside and pressed Lancelot's body down onto the wooden planks.

Utterly disbelieving, Lancelot saw his blood stop flowing and his skin start to knit together. In less than a minute, all that was left was a silvery mark in his flesh in the shape of the fish's giant jaws.

Lancelot did not know who was more astounded, himself or the two men whose lives he had saved.

And Lancelot had thought that the boat was nothing more than a ferry that plied the gloomy, placid waters of the Lake of Avalon.

Talk about a baptism by fire!

As the boat sailed on the weather changed again, warmer but wetter and a fine rain soaked them all to the bone.

Then without warning, they were sailing up a wide estuary. The two passengers stared at each dumbfounded. Despite the fact that they had sailed many weeks before their ship had foundered, they were now barely three miles from home and their journey had taken less than an hour. Not even enough time to get answers to all their many questions.

Kay put them ashore with a smile and the two bemused men watched their saviours sail away.

"So what do you think of your new employment?" Kay asked Lancelot, as he trimmed the sail.

Lancelot smiled broadly.

"I think it is possibly the best job in this world or any other, for that matter!"

Ten mortal years later

It was getting dark and Princess Melora looked down into the main courtyard of the castle of Camelot. Already she could see candles burning at the foot of the statue of Sir Lancelot. Tomorrow was the tenth anniversary of the last great battle against the Saxons, a battle her father had won, but one that had seen Lancelot gravely wounded.

She had been only eight years old then and while the battle raged, she and her mother and brother had been far away in the secret valley of the Cathars. Ten years ago and yet she still remembered it all so clearly. She still remembered how her family, had been attacked by bandits and how Sir Lancelot had appeared from nowhere to save them.

He had led them to the secret hideaway, where the Cathars had taken them in and kept them safe until the battle had been won.

For two full days, Lancelot had stayed with them and explored the beautiful valley and then he had gone off to fight.

Melora had never seen him again.

During the battle he had saved her father's life, for the second time, but in doing so had been terribly injured. He had gone away somewhere to recover, but he had never returned.

In the months that followed she had often asked about him but no one could ever tell her if or when, he would come back.

But, he was not forgotten, for shortly after the battle, her father had made a big announcement about Lancelot, from the balcony overlooking the main square. She had not really understood half of what was being said, nor had anyone been prepared to tell her the details. However, after that day, the court stonemason had started work on the statue of Lancelot, and it now stood close to the main steps into the castle's great hall.

As it was being carved the eight-year old Melora had visited the mason, frequently, trying to make sure that the sculpture actually looked like the man himself. To her credit, and the stonemason's talent and hard work, the finished article was as good a likeness as anyone could have hoped for.

Once finished, the statue had been erected on a marble plinth. On the plinth were carved the words,

"In memory of all the fallen heroes of Camelot and Sir Lancelot, the bravest and most noble knight of all"

Melora had been too small to touch anything other than the toe of the right boot of the statue, but she had reached up to touch it often. It was something she increasingly did whenever she was worried about something. Touching the stone boot of her hero became her lucky charm. Sometimes her father would be gone from Camelot for longer than expected and she would stretch out her fingers to touch 'Lancelot's boot' and murmur her prayers to the gods that he would come home safely.

And Arthur always came home.

Gradually, others who had seen Melora, started to do the same thing. Lancelot was lucky, it was said. He had achieved the impossible and come back from the world of the dead. Now by rubbing their fingers on his likeness they hoped some of his 'luck' would rub off on them.

As the years went by, people began to leave coins and flowers by the statue and on the eve of the anniversary of the last great battle candles would be lit in memory of all those who had fallen.

Melora sighed. She was eighteen and three weeks previously her parents had thrown an enormous banquet in honour of her coming of age. Every eligible prince, lord and knight from the five kingdoms seemed to have been invited and she knew that her parents had been hoping that one of them would take her fancy.

Although her parents had promised that she should only ever marry for love, it had to be said that marriage to someone of standing in one of the other kingdoms would have been a great way of cementing the sometimes, tenuous alliances between the fellow rulers.

Her brother, Bohart had married Princess Anna from the Kingdom of Mannin. Mannin was a small, fragmented kingdom, which included most of the Northern Isles. However it was very much part of the 'Grand Alliance', negotiated by Arthur and Merlin and the Manx knights patrolled the Northern most shores of the five kingdoms. Mannin also provided ships, which helped to repel raiders and pirates from the wild lands beyond.

Melora's other brother, Merri had married Percival's niece, Caitlin. From the Pendragon's first, family visit to Caitlin's home at Lindisfarne the two of them had become firm friends and that friendship had eventually turned to love.

Melora was happy for her brothers and she loved her sisters-in-law, but she was also sometimes jealous of her brothers' good fortune.

Melora herself had only really ever been interested in one young man, Robin Valiant, son of one of the senior knights. They had grown up together, but sadly Robin had only ever had eyes for Melora's best friend, Genna, a pretty girl with a curtain of straight brown hair and huge brown eyes.

Melora had been pragmatic about his choice. She liked Robin enormously and he was as handsome as any young man she had ever met. But when she realised that he preferred another, it had not devastated her. She had accepted his choice and recognised that what she had previously seen as her love for him was somehow lacking. If he had been her soul mate, she would surely have cared more.

Now, she turned away from the window, picked up her small harp and began to play.

It was an old song, but one that was often played by the travelling minstrels, who toured the five kingdoms to earn their living.

Melora sung softly,

"So wait for me, please wait for me and do not wed another,

for it is written in the stars, that I should be your only lover…"

As she played she saw a figure she recognised walking across the courtyard.

She put down the harp and took a candle from a draw.

She lit it from one of the candles burning in a sconce on the wall and then hurried through the castle and out into the courtyard.

Her friend, Genna had already placed her own candle at the foot of the statue.

She smiled at Melora and reached out to rub the stone Lancelot's boot.

"What are you wishing for?" asked Melora, although she thought she could guess.

Genna shrugged. "Robin's a fully fledged knight now, she said, "so we could be married. We are both more than old enough."

"I am sure he will ask you very soon", Melora told her friend.

She looked up at Lancelot's stone face and found herself wondering how old Lancelot would be if he were to return to Camelot. She guessed that he might be thirty-six or thirty-seven. That wasn't so old really. Many women in Camelot were married to men who were much older than they were and Gawaine was married to a lady who was more than ten years his senior.

Then again, it hardly seemed worth thinking about such things. In ten years Lancelot had never returned. She had to face the fact that it was highly unlikely that she would ever see him again. In any case, she told herself, if Lancelot did come back he would almost certainly already be married.

"Will you ride with us tomorrow?" asked Genna. "Robin has a new horse."

"Wouldn't the two of you rather be alone?" asked Melora.

She grinned, "More chances for him to ask the question!"

Genna shrugged.

"He wants to race his new mount against yours Melora. He wants to see if it is as good."

Melora had been given a new horse for her birthday and it was a splendid animal and extremely fast.

"I'll beat him," she said with a smile, "and then he'll sulk."

"And I'll just have to cheer him up then, won't I?"

The two girls laughed together, neither one of them aware that the winds of change were blowing.

Melora met Genna and Robin at the stables. Their horses were saddled and ready and as Porrig, Camelot's Master of Horse, saddled Melora's mare, he offered her a word of advice.

"She's afraid of snakes, my lady, so best to stay away from areas where they might be. I know that you are a fine horse woman, but this mare is young and fast and as yet not so experienced as these other horses."

Melora thanked him for his advice.

Porrig was Camelot's 'horse whisperer'. He only had to lay his head against the head of a horse and he could see all their thoughts and communicate his own thoughts to them. It was a rare skill, but one that he had been forced to hide for many years. In the eyes of most people 'horse whispering' was akin to sorcery and when Porrig had been growing up, sorcery in all its forms had been illegal and punishable by death.

Now that sorcery was legal, Porrig's skills were highly regarded and he was seen as an important member of the court staff.

As Melora and her friends rode away from the citadel, the sun was shining and it promised to be a warm day.

After a while they came to a mass of bluebells and they stopped to wander through the inland sea of blue flowers.

Robin offered to pick flowers for both his ladies, but the girls refused, knowing that the blooms would wilt long before they returned home.

They had brought food and drink with them and planned to make the most of the glorious weather.

Under a spreading tree they laid out a blanket and sat to eat their lunch of bread and cheese and cakes from the palace kitchen.

As Robin ate his third cake Melora chided him.

"Don't eat too many Robin, or you'll weigh your poor horse right down and then it will be even easier for me to beat you."

Robin stuffed the cake into his mouth and grabbed another.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Princess, but my mount is superior to yours in every way and of course with my skilful horsemanship, I will win our race without any doubt at all."

"Is that so?" grinned Melora, jumping to her feet.

"Let's put that to the test right now, shall we?"

Robin shoved a whole cake into his mouth and scrambled up.

"Right Melora," he said, "if you want to race now and get indigestion, so be it."

With that he vaulted into the saddle and took off down the meadow towards a wood, about a mile in the distance.

Melora was right behind him, while Genna just lay back on the blanket and shouted after her,

"Make sure you beat him, won't you, and I'll try not to eat the rest of the food."

By taking Melora by surprise, Robin had a head start and his new horse was fast. But Melora's filly was even faster and with a lighter burden to carry, the young horse caught up when they were only half way to the trees.

Melora whooped as she passed Robin.

She had intended to stop at the edge of the woods but as she started to pull on the reigns a snake, which had been sunning itself on a flat rock, shot across their path in hasty retreat.

The horse reared, whinnied and then galloped on even faster than before….straight into the trees.

As Melora fought to gain control of the frightened animal, they hurtled headlong towards a broken branch, hanging down over the track.

While the animal went under it with just a dip of its head, Melora had no time to react.

She was ripped from the saddle and thrown backwards against a tree-trunk.

Robin heard Melora scream and hauled his horse around. In seconds he was beside his friend and leaping from his saddle.

But Melora was unconscious and as he looked at the unnatural position of her limbs, he gasped in horror.

He had seen knights knocked from their horses in tournaments, their limbs in just such disarray. The outcome had never been good.

He put his hand on Melora's head. She was still alive, but he was certain that she had sustained terrible injuries.

"Melora," he gasped, anxiously "Melora, please wake up…please."

But the princess gave no indication whatsoever that she had heard him.

Robin felt his blood turn to ice. Although he would never have admitted it out loud, he loved Melora as much as he loved Genna. When the three of them had been but thirteen years old he had kissed both of them.

It had been a summer day, hot and sultry and the three of them had been swimming in the river. As they lay on the bank in the hot sun, drying their clothes, Melora had boldly asked him if both she and Genna could kiss him. She had told him that they wanted to know what kissing a boy really felt like and as he was their friend, he should indulge them.

He had laughed then, knowing how jealous his friends would have been if they could have been there in his place.

He remembered both kisses as if they had been yesterday. Genna's warm and passionate and Melora's questioning and experimental, as if she was testing her feelings for him.

He remembered thinking then that there had always been something 'other worldly' about Melora, something he could never quite put his finger on and so as she drew away from him that day, he had given up dreams of loving Melora and pursued instead her lovely brown eyed friend.

Now, Melora lay on the ground silent and broken and it was his fault, his fault for challenging her to a race, his fault for trying to show off. How would he ever be able to forgive himself?

Desperately, he looked around. What could he do? He could not leave her alone in this wood, but at the same time he had to get help.

He leant down and kissed Melora's forehead.

"Don't die, Melora. Please, don't die. You mean so much to so many. We cannot live without you."

Then he threw himself back on his horse and raced back to Genna.

When he reached her, one look at his face told Genna that something terrible had happened. Without delay, she mounted up and followed Robin back to the wood.

They both tried to rouse Melora but despite their repeated requests for Melora to open her eyes and speak, the princess remained silent and unresponsive.

"You go back to get help," urged Genna, "and I'll stay her with Melora."

Robin shook his head.

'No! I should stay. These woods are dark and no place for two women, alone. You know the way back. I'll take you to the edge of the trees and then you must be the one to go and get help."

Genna, who in truth had been frightened of staying alone in the darkness of the wood, did not protest.

As she parted from Robin, he clutched at her hand.

"Ride fast, my love, but not so fast that you too fall from the saddle. I could not bear to see you hurt as well. Please, please be careful."

At any other time Genna would have seen his words as a welcome sign of his devotion to her, but now she could think only of her injured friend.

Two weeks later, Arthur crept into Melora's room to find Gwen, asleep with her head on her arms on the side of Melora's bed. No matter how many times Arthur urged Gwen to let others do some of the caring for their daughter, Gwen refused. She insisted that she spent most of every day with their daughter, washing and feeding her and changing her clothing and bedding. She ate little and slept hardly at all and it broke Arthur's heart to see his wife so pale and depressed.

After the alarm had been raised by Robin, Arthur, Merlin, Percival and Gawaine had rushed to the woods to rescue Melora. But even though the greatest care had been taken in moving her and getting her back to the citadel, Melora remained largely paralysed and unable to move anything except her head, her right arm and hand.

For the first few days, she had remained resolutely optimistic, positive that Merlin would find a way to restore movement to her useless limbs.

But as the days went by and Merlin could affect no such cure, Melora had started to withdraw from the world.

Now her beauty seemed to be fading day by day. Her glistening golden hair had lost its shine and her beautiful skin was starting to look like dried parchment.

Day after day Merlin locked himself away and tried to find a way to restore movement to Melora's broken body, but it was to no avail.

Finally he was forced to explain to tell Arthur that there was nothing he could do.

On a human skeleton, which had long been kept in the court physician's chambers, Merlin pointed out the hole in each of the small bones of the back.

"Here," he said, "Here the tiny threads which command movement pass out to the rest of the body. When Melora fell from her horse, she broke bones in her spine. The bones in her back were pushed out of line and the threads that pass through them were broken. And these threads are just too fine, too….minute for me to see. A splinter of metal in flesh I can see, clearly and draw out with magic. A broken bone, I can see and mend with magic. Torn flesh, I can heal with magic, but these threads? They are just too intricate for me to repair. Though I look, with all the power I can summon, I cannot get a clear picture and I cannot use my powers to repair what I cannot see."

As Merlin explained this to Arthur, the expression on Arthur's face made him feel as if his heart would break.

And yet Arthur did not complain. He merely nodded and said, "I know that you have done your best."

Another man might have thought Arthur was just being pragmatic. Merlin knew better.

Arthur was bitterly disappointed. Merlin could see it clearly in his eyes.

Eventually Merlin knew that he had only one choice left to him and he was almost afraid to talk to Arthur about it. If what he planned to do came to nothing then there really would be nothing left to try.

But he could not suddenly leave Camelot without telling Arthur where he was going and his days of lying to Arthur were long gone.

So he chose his moment and managed to find Arthur alone in his sitting room.

The king was ostensibly going through court papers, but in reality he was spending a lot of time just staring into space. Concentration on matters of state was becoming more and more difficult.

He was glad when Merlin came to disturb him, even though he had long ceased to expect good news.

Merlin saw no point in beating about the bush.

"Arthur," he said, "despite my best efforts, I have been unable to help Melora. Now, I can think of only one thing left to try and that is to take her to the Lake of Avalon…"

"You mean you would call the boat?" interrupted Arthur, his eyes immediately alight with hope.

"Could you do that? You did it for Lancelot and the boat came for me and…and well, it brought me back to life! It could surely make Melora walk again."

Merlin held up his hand.

"Arthur, firstly, I do not know if I CAN call the boat."

"But you did it for Lancelot…."

"Yes, but I even when I was doing it, I wasn't at all sure that the boat would come. I did not have a special spell or special words. I just spoke the words for 'finding', the same words I would use to find a path in the darkness or even just a lost button…"

"But it worked," insisted Arthur, "the boat came and…"

"And took Lancelot away and we have never seen him from that day to this, have we? At the time I was just desperate to do something….anything to help him.

Logically, he had no business to be on the battlefield that day. He had already given up his life on the Isle of the Blessed. For years, he had been nothing but a spirit and even though the Cailleach allowed him to come back through the veil, it was made perfectly clear that he could not remain with us in Camelot. What could I do? After what he told me about the terrible place in which he had been trapped for so long, I could not bear the thought of him having to go back. Avalon seemed his only hope. Melora's circumstances are totally different. Yes, she is badly is injured but she is alive and I don't know if I can just call the boat and ask for help. If I could then I could take every sick person in Camelot straight to the lake for a quick cure. I cannot believe it is that simple…..can you?

When first I heard of Avalon, Gaius told me it was a place where no mortal could walk and you and I both know that there are creatures there that would do us harm if they could. In truth, Arthur, The Isle of Avalon is a place I do not fully understand."

The hope in Arthur's eyes began to drain away.

"So you are already saying that going to the lake is a waste of time? Couldn't you try and make contact with the Lady of the Lake? She is surely on our side. She gave us the white owl to warn us if the Sidhe ever tried to cause trouble here again. Couldn't the bird take a message?"

"I sent Rehan with a message two nights ago, Arthur and so far I have received no reply. So, I must go to the lake. IF I can call the boat again I will ask if I may return with Melora in the hope that she can benefit from its healing powers. In the mean time, I think it would be better if you did not say anything about this to anyone. If I am unsuccessful, the disappointment will be too much to bear."

He looked Arthur squarely in the eye.

"I have no children and I suspect that will never change. Your children are all I have. I would do anything for any of them, give up my life if need be. I promise you I will do everything in my power to get help for Melora, whatever it takes."

And so Merlin slipped away in the middle of the night. The moon was full and a sky full of stars made it easy for him to find his way.

Many years before, it had taken Merlin and Arthur the best part of two days to reach the shores of the lake. But then, their journey had been hampered by the need to avoid Morgana's troops and Arthur's terrible wound.

Now Merlin rode the fastest horse in the royal stables and as darkness was falling once more, he spied the waters of the lake, glinting in the last of the sunlight, through the trees.

He did not know whether he was glad to have arrived or if he wished that his journey was still hours from completion. He needed to know if he could help the princess, but at the same time, he dreaded to find out that his journey had been in vain.

He climbed off his horse near a stream and allowed the animal to drink. Then he tied the horse to a stout branch and walked slowly down towards the water.

For a few moments he just stood and stared. Try as he might he could see no island, just a smooth expanse of water and in the far, far distance the opposite shore. In a way this was about as disappointing as it could be, for on the last two occasions he had visited this place he had at least been able to see a small island and in its centre the dark and forbidding tower of the Sidhe.

But as he stood anxiously staring at the water, he was aware that the view of the land on the other side of the lake was fading and slowly a thick mist was billowing across the water.

Merlin's heart beat faster.

He stretched out his hand and spoke the 'finding' words and from the heart of the mist came the boat.

The boatman hailed Merlin long before the boat was close enough for a proper conversation, but just the tone of the boatman's voice made Merlin sure that he had not made a wasted journey.

The boat came to a stop just before it would have run aground.

The boatman was smiling and before Merlin could even begin to make his request, the man spoke.

"My Lady of the Lake, sends you her warmest wishes, Merlin and wants you to know that she can help the princess"

Merlin couldn't help himself. Immediately he was blurting out his thanks.

"I did not even know if I could call you again," he said, "but thank you for coming, thank you, thank you."

"No thanks is needed, Merlin and my lady wishes you to know that whenever you need the boat, you may call it. After all these years Merlin you should know that your command of magic is unsurpassed. With every passing year, you become more powerful.

But we must talk of the princess."

"Yes, yes," agreed Merlin.

"Since her accident she is almost totally paralysed and I am afraid that even if my powers are great, I cannot cure her. May her father bring her to the lake and lay her in the boat? Surely, it will mend what I cannot."

"You may bring the princess by all means, but laying her in the boat will not be enough to mend such serious injuries."

Merlin raised his eyebrows.

"It won't?" he asked.

The boatman shook his head.

"No. With such injuries, the power of the island itself is needed to bring about a full recovery. Your princess will need to stay on the island until the trees are bare and the cold of winter grips the earth. Only then will her body be strong enough for her to walk again in Camelot."

He smiled. "Do not look so disappointed, Merlin. It is but a season and a half that you will not see her. Surely that is not so long to be without her company?"

Merlin could only shrug his shoulders. He sighed.

"You are right, I suppose. But maybe I could come with her and look after her? I mean, is it safe for a mortal to walk on the soil of the island? I had always understood that it was not."

"And yet you brought your great friend Lancelot to me. To where did you think I would take him? Back to the world of the dead?"  
Merlin frowned.

"No, I never thought that. I suppose, despite what the Caileach said, I always hoped that he would have some sort of a future.

"He belongs on the island," the boatman said with a smile. "He is different from other men."

"And is he there now?" asked Merlin, eagerly. He had long ago given up all hope of seeing his friend again.

The boatman's eyes twinkled.

"I could not possibly say. The occupants of the island are special and their identity is not for the world of mortals. I can tell you that the Lady of the Lake was gone from her lands when your message arrived and she sent her apologies that you have had to make this journey.

Just bring your princess to the shore of the lake. Let me take her to the island and all will be well."

With that the boat began to back away from the shore and was rapidly lost in a blanket of thick mist that rolled almost to the shore.

Merlin caught a brief glimpse of the Sidhe's tower and then it too vanished into the fog.

He ran up the bank and into the trees. For just a second he remembered running away from the lake on the worst day of his life….the day that he thought that Arthur had died.

But he pushed that memory aside. This time, it was a good day. He was full of hope.

In Melora's room, Merri lay on the bed beside his sister, making butterflies hover above her head. Every time she caught one with her good hand, it would disappear and Merri would create an even more colourful one to replace it.

Since Melora's accident, he had spent hours with his sister, doing whatever he could to keep her spirits up.

He organised frequent family games of cards and charades and anything else that he could think of to keep her amused.

But on this day, he could see that even his best efforts were not having the desired effect. Melora was playing 'catch the butterfly' for his benefit, not for her own.

"You're getting too good at this," he tried brightly.

"Maybe I should try something more difficult. What about flying camels?"

Melora smiled, faintly, but it was just a ghost of her old smile. Once she had loved to watch her brother doing his magic tricks. Now she just wanted to be alone.

"Maybe you should go and find Caitlin," Melora suggested, "I'm tired."

Merri very much doubted that. Recently his sister had spent most of the day with her eyes closed and her face turned towards the wall.

He was about to offer another diversion, when his parents and Merlin entered the room.

By the expression on their faces, Merri sensed that something had changed.

He swung his legs onto the floor, and with a wave of his hand the butterflies disappeared.

His mother had her hands clasped tightly together in front of her, but his father looked resolutely optimistic.

"Melora," he began, "how would you feel about going away from here until the winter comes…?"

Despite the fact that Melora would be going alone to an unknown place, the change in her demeanour was instant. If indeed she had any reservations she did not show them and professed herself to be ready to go as soon as the travel arrangements could be made.

In reality, she was more than a little afraid, but if leaving her family was the only way she had any hope of regaining the use of her limbs then she was determined to take the chance.

Thus, only one day later, the family set off for Avalon. As the journey was largely away from the main routes that criss-crossed the kingdom, Percival and Gawaine travelled with the Pendragons, as a precaution against any encounters with thieves or bandits.

As Merlin still thought it best that Melora remained flat on her back, the princess was placed in a small cart. It was hardly an ideal form of transport over rough ground but Melora endured the relentless bumping without complaint.

When they made camp for the night, Melora refused to be moved into a tent and insisted on staying in the cart in the open air. When she finally fell asleep under a glittering canopy of twinkling stars, she dreamt of the valley of the Cathers, of waterfalls and rainbows and Sir Lancelot. When the cold of the dawn woke her, she wished she could go back to her dream.

For the final part of the journey, through tangled undergrowth, Percival and Arthur carried Melora on a stretcher. Gwen walked anxiously beside, holding Melora's hand.

She had no doubt that sending Melora to Avalon was her daughter's only hope, but that did not make the thought of leaving her in the care of a strangers any easier.

Finally, they were all standing at the water's edge.

"Are you ready Melora," asked Merlin.

Melora nodded. She looked very pale and despite her many assurances that this was what she wanted, Merlin could detect her anxiety.

He leant down towards her.

"You will be fine," he said, "and I am sure the time will go quickly. Don't worry about anything. The Lady of the Lake will keep you safe."

Then Merlin stretched out his hands towards the water, and spoke the words which he now knew would bring the boat.

Once again, the mist covered the surface of the lake and out of it came the magical craft.

Merri reached out and squeezed his sister's hand.

"I wish I could go with you Melly," he said. "I am sure you will see so many amazing things. When we meet again, you must tell me everything."

"And me," said Bohart, taking her other hand and kissing her on the cheek.

Then Arthur picked up his daughter and walked towards the lapping water. For a moment he paused as Gwen kissed Melora and stroked her hair.

"I'll miss you," Gwen told her daughter, "please be very careful while you are away from us."

"She will be well looked after, Gwen" Merlin assured her.

Then he, Gwen, Percival and Gawain said their goodbyes and it only remained for Arthur to hand Melora into the waiting arms of the boatman.

Arthur had a lump in his throat so big, that he almost could not speak, but as the boatman laid Melora onto the blankets and furs on the bottom of the boat, he finally found his voice.

"Once again you come to our aid. I don't know how to thank you. I hope one day I may find a way to repay you."

Kay inclined his head.

"That will not be necessary. You are the 'Once and future King'. It is both an honour and a pleasure to serve you."

With that the boat began to move out into the deeper water and Arthur stepped back to stand beside his family.

He put an arm around Gwen's shoulders and everyone pretended not to notice the tears in the king's eyes.

Too quickly the mist swallowed all sign of the boat and the Pendragons, the knights and Merlin turned reluctantly back to the forest.

In the boat, Melora strained for a last look at her family but the sides of the boat were far too high for her to see anything.

So, when the mists surrounded the boat she turned her attention to the boatman.

"How far is it?" she asked him.

"No distance at all, My lady, but you must be tired. Just close your eyes and I will wake you when we arrive."

Until this moment Melora had felt anything but tired, but suddenly she felt an over whelming urge to close her eyes.

Melora woke to the sound of birds singing and sunshine playing on her pillow.

For a moment she had no idea where she was and then it all came back to her in a rush.

She found herself lying in a huge bed that faced a large open window.

Somebody had undressed her down to her shift and she was covered with a beautifully embroidered sheet. On a table beside the bed, were a glass goblet, a jug of water and a small bell. Melora imagined that this bell was to enable her to call someone to assist her and with her 'good' hand she reached out to pick it up.

But it was too far away. Surely whoever had put her to bed knew that apart from her neck and right arm, she was totally paralysed. So why hadn't they put the bell closer to the bed? With the bell out of her reach she would have no alternative but to lie here until someone came.

She found that thought vaguely alarming. Since her accident she had rarely been left alone for any length of time.

She renewed her efforts to reach the bell and something amazing happened.

Without thinking she put her other hand on the bed beside her and pushed herself nearer the edge. Completely unbalanced, she nearly tipped herself onto the floor. She grabbed the side of the table and steadied herself.

In a state of shock, she lay on the edge of the bed, not really understanding what had happened.

Then, hardly daring to believe that it would work, she tried to move her toes. They moved! Then she tried to move each leg. They too obeyed her.

Very carefully, she used her hands to push herself up into a sitting position.

For a few minutes she just sat there, clenching and unclenching her fists and wriggling her feet. Just sitting up like this seemed to be the most wonderful thing in the world. She wanted to shout for joy. How long would it be, she wondered before she could walk?

She was about to ring the bell, when she realised that it wasn't just the birds she could hear singing.

Somewhere outside a man was singing too.

'Oh I have travelled far and wide,

Cossed ocean, sea and sand,

To find the gold and riches,

That I may win your hand.

So wait for me, please wait for me,

And do not wed another.

For it is written in the stars,

That I should be your only lover.'

Melora listened. Whoever was singing had a nice voice and it was quite comforting to know that the people on the island sang the same songs as those in Camelot.

But something else was nagging her, something at the back of her mind.

Could it be that the voice sounded familiar as well?

But who could she possibly know in this strange place?

It couldn't be….surely… and yet…was it possible? Could it really be him?

Hadn't he sung this very song as she rode with him through the secret valley of the Cathars? She had been half asleep at the time, just a child of eight, too tired to ride her own horse, after a long and exciting day.

She had to know.

Tentatively, she put her feet on the floor. Then using the table to support herself, she stood up.

Very carefully she took a step, then another and another, until she had crossed the room, Next to the window there was a door leading out to a balcony. She opened it and stepped outside. As she reached the balustrade, she felt quite giddy and she clung to the stonework, breathing quickly.

Below was a wide pavement of golden stone that wove its way through flowering shrubs down to the water's edge. There was a wooden jetty, and tied to the jetty a small boat.

The singer was sitting in the boat, with his back to the palace, doing something with what looked to be fishing lines.

Melora strained her eyes. Could it possibly be him?

She walked back into the room, each step steadier than the last and looked for her clothes. But her clothes were nowhere to be seen. All that remained was her cloak, which had been draped over a chair.

Melora seized it and wrapped it around herself.

Then she hurried to the door of her room.

For some reason, she was afraid it might be locked, but the latch lifted easily and she found herself in a corridor.

She looked left and right, before spotting an archway. Through the archway she thought she could see stairs.

Barefoot she ran over and finding there was indeed a staircase, started to descend to the ground floor.

As she had hoped, the spiral staircase ended in a door, which was conveniently unlocked.

Without stopping to consider whether or not walking around half dressed in a strange place was a good idea, Melora slipped through the door.

The paving stones felt warm and it was a pleasure rather than an annoyance to feel the pieces of grit and gravel under her bare feet.

It took only minutes for her to reach the wooden jetty and without stopping to consider her actions, Melora almost ran down the wooden decking towards the boat.

"Um…er….excuse me. Er…..I heard you singing and I thought you might be…"

Startled, the man turned to face her.

Melora gasped.

She had not seen him for ten years and yet he looked EXACTLY the same. The same dark curling hair, the same smooth skin and dark eyes."

Lancelot sprang to his feet, setting the small boat rocking from side to side. He nearly lost his footing but he still managed a clumsy bow.

"My….my lady. I am sorry. You startled me. Can I be of assistance?"

He eyed her unconventional dress, wondering if his singing might have woken her.

"Did my singing disturb you? If it did, I humbly apologise."

"You didn't disturb me," said Melora, far too excited to worry about her clothes.

"It's just that I heard your voice and I remembered…..it is you isn't it? You are Lancelot, Knight of Camelot?"

Lancelot climbed out of the boat, trying hard to remember who this young woman might be.

"My name is Lancelot… and yes, once I was a knight of Camelot. But forgive me. You obviously know me and yet I…"

"You don't remember me, and I suppose there is no reason why you should. I was only eight years old, the last time we met!"

Lancelot stared at Melora, trying to recall…a child with curly blond hair. Could it have been someone he met while he roamed the five kingdoms? In the days after Uther had banished him from Camelot he had met many people, but children? Mostly he had been in the company of men and the kind of women he would rather forget.

"If it helps you," offered Melora, "it is my ribbon you wear on your belt."

Lancelot glanced down at his old belt and the faded ribbon that was tied to it. From the day he had tied it to his belt, he had never removed it. It was a memory of two of the happiest days of his life.

His eyes grew wide in astonishment.

"Melora?" he asked, 'Princess Melora of Camelot."

Melora beamed at him.

"Yes, the same person that you rescued from the brambles all those years ago."

"You are much changed, my lady," Lancelot told her, "but can it really be ten years?"

But even as he asked the question Lancelot knew that the passing of time in the mortal world had no bearing on its passing on the island.

For him it seemed only two or three years that he had lived on Avalon.

Now, however, did not seem to be the right time to try and explain that to Melora, especially as she appeared to be wearing her nightdress and was barefoot.

"It's still me," insisted Melora, totally oblivious to Lancelot's concerns about her state of undress.

"I fell from my horse and broke my back."

She shivered, "It was awful. I was paralysed and no one could help me, not even Merlin. I thought I would never walk again. All I could do was move my right arm and my head and the rest of me was utterly useless.

So Merlin asked if I might be brought to the boat, so that I could be healed. But he was told that my injuries were so great that the boat alone would not restore me to health. I had to come to the island and stay here until winter. So, here I am and you are here too!"

She had a sudden thought.

"Tell me Lancelot, why did you never come and see us? Camelot is less than two days ride from the lake."

"I would have come if I could. Unfortunately I cannot return to Camelot and I am sure at a later date I will be able to explain why. But just for now, maybe you should return to the palace and get erm…dressed? Breakfast will be served shortly."

Melora felt herself blush. She had forgotten all about her clothes.

"I…I couldn't find my clothes," she said quickly.

"Do you think if I go back to my room someone will bring them to me?"

"Why of course. You will have a maidservant and I expect that even now she is anxiously looking for you."

Melora looked back at the palace. There were so many windows and doors. Could she even remember the way back to her room?

Lancelot must have read her mind, for he kindly volunteered to escort her back inside.

As he offered her his arm, Melora saw the strangest sight. Flying towards her was a young woman dressed in green.

Melora gaped. She had never seen such a person in her life.

Melora's maidservant was called Celdine and in the days that passed she would become Melora's friend and confidante. For now, she organised Melora's bath, then did her hair and helped her into her clothes.

When Melora was ready, Celdine guided her down to a courtyard where to Melora's delight Lancelot was sitting on a stone seat, waiting for her.

"It's all quite overwhelming when you first get here," he said.

"If it would please you, I will escort you into the dining hall."

Melora could not tell him just how much it pleased her, so instead she merely thanked him and took his arm.

The hall was even bigger than the hall at Camelot, but laid out in more or less the same way. Only a few of the tables were occupied and the people who occupied them were mostly unlike any Melora would have expected to see in Camelot.

There was a whole table of dwarfs. Melora had seen a dwarf only once before. He had arrived in Camelot with a troop of jugglers and acrobats and been a fine juggler himself. But none of these dwarves looked like jugglers. They were dark skinned with serious faces. Their bare arms were strong and muscular and in their belts were hammers and short knives. Melora stared at the small men, before remembering her manners.

Just as Lancelot had done the first time he entered the dining hall, Melora looked round for a place in a corner, somewhere where she might not be noticed by the other diners.

But Lancelot guided her firmly towards the top table and pulled out a chair for her to sit on.

No sooner had Melora nervously taken her seat, than two more people entered the room.

One was the boatman. The other was a lady and just once look at her told Melora that this must be the Lady of the Lake.

As she came closer, her green dress floated around her as if moved by a soft breeze. The dress itself appeared to change colour and it sparkled in the sunlight that filtered into the room from the high windows.

Melora had never seen a more beautiful woman in her life.

During the meal, the Lady Vivienne told Melora how delighted she was to have her to stay and promised the princess that she would want for nothing while she remained on the island.

She told Melora that she would have the run of the palace but if ever she wanted to explore the interior of the island she must never do so alone. She must always go with Lancelot or Kay.

Melora promised she would obey that rule and was delighted to do so. She would now have a good reason to spend as much time with Lancelot as she could.

And so the days passed quickly and despite missing her family and friends, Melora found herself happier that she had been for a long time.

She became very friendly with the fearsome looking dwarves and her maidservant, Celdine was excellent company.

She spent her days, drawing or playing the harp or helping the fairies embroider huge tapestries.

The walls of the palace were covered with these embroidered pictures, their colours rich and vibrant. Sometimes the lady herself would join them and when she sewed, the coloured threads glowed and the creatures she embroidered seemed almost alive.

Every day was different and Melora was never bored or lonely. It never rained for more than an hour or two and the sun shone every day. It was never cold or gloomy and the waters that Merlora could see from her bedroom window were always blue and crystal clear.

On the days when Lancelot was piloting the boat, Melora would always go down to the jetty in the evening and wait for him to return. Usually by the time the sun was setting a sail would appear on the horizon but occasionally Lancelot and Kay would return long after dark. If Melora could have had her way, Kay would have made every trip on the boat, alone and she could have spent every day with Lancelot. But she knew that was a selfish wish.

Kay was consort to the Lady Vivienne and sometimes they would disappear together for days at a time. When this happened Lancelot piloted the boat alone and sometimes he returned long after the moon had risen in the sky.

Despite the fact that Lancelot had explained to Melora the truth about his parentage and impressed upon her that even alone on the boat, he was never in any real danger, Melora still worried. Having found him again, her biggest fear was that she might lose him. Yes, he had returned from the world of the dead and survived a mortal wound but Melora knew that beyond the safety of the island, dark magic lived on.

Melora was endlessly curious about Avalon. If it was an island at all, then it was huge. Often she would ride into the interior for hours with Lancelot, but even from high peaks, she could never see the island's opposite shore.

There were snow-covered mountains and hidden valleys full of flowering trees and dappled meadows. There were lakes and rivers and waterfalls and forests, but apart from the dark forbidding tower of the Sidhe and the palace itself, there was no sign of any other habitations. The land was totally unspoiled and the scenery was spectacular.

When Melora and Lancelot planned a whole day of exploring, Melora would pack a picnic and blankets and towels and Lancelot would bring his rods and nets.

They would ride all morning then find a place by water to picnic, fish and swim.

On such a day Melora watched Lancelot dozing under a tree.

They had been swimming in a pool beneath a waterfall and Lancelot was wearing nothing but his breeches.

Melora's fingers itched to reach out and touch his smooth tanned skin, but that would wake him and he was obviously exhausted.

On the previous day Lancelot had undertaken an arduous voyage with Kay and not returned until nearly dawn.

Had he not promised to ride out with her, Melora felt sure that Lancelot would have spent his day relaxing or sleeping in his room.

She should let him rest, but instead she plucked a stem of grass and used it to tickle Lancelot's shoulder. To her disappointment he brushed it aside in his sleep without even opening one eye.

Bored, Melora got to her feet and wandered over to where the water from the pool cascaded down another waterfall into a fast flowing river some thirty feet below.

The pool itself was quite shallow and at least a small section of it in full sun for nearly the whole day. Thus despite the fact that it was fed by melting snow, cascading down from the higher waterfall, part of the pool was always warm enough for a refreshing swim.

The spray from the waterfall sparkled with rainbows and Melora held out her hand to catch the colours on her skin.

So absorbed was she, that she did not notice the three small flying creatures that had followed her to the water's edge.

As they hovered close by, one dropped to the ground and assumed human proportions.

It was in that moment that Melora became aware that someone was standing behind her.

Expecting it to be Lancelot, she turned, smiling.

She could not hide her surprise when she found herself facing a young woman.

The stranger returned her smile.

"Good day Princess Melora."

"G…Good day," answered Melora politely, "you startled me a little. I had thought my companion and I were the only people here."

The woman smile widened and she glanced towards the sleeping knight.

"And indeed you were, until I happened along. May I introduce myself. I am Cinder, a resident of this island."

"And you obviously know who I am. I am only here until I am fully healed from a terrible accident."

The woman nodded, amiably as if she already knew this and Melora tried hard to remember if she had ever seen this person before.

"Have you been living her long," she asked, thinking that this woman might be a fellow human. She appeared to have no wings and was clearly no dwarf.

"About a thousand, thousand, thousand years," answered the woman, "since this land was created."

Melora frowned, "Then you are…"

Her voice trailed away as she suddenly noticed the woman's sharp pointed teeth.

Anxiously, Melora looked towards Lancelot, but he slumbered on.

"I am Sidhe," the woman said, proudly and I come to invite you to return with me to our tower. We need you, Princess. You can help us gain our true place in the world of men."

"What do you mean?" asked Melora, her voice getting louder, as it suddenly dawned on her that she might be in danger.

Hadn't she been warned from her first day on the island, to stay away from the Sidhe's tower?

She also remembered her brother, Bohart's experience in the hands of these creatures.

When he had been barely old enough to speak, the Sidhe had stolen Bohart away, intent on rearing him as one of their own. Only Merlin's magic and the great dragon, Kilgharrah had allowed her father to rescue him.

Now to her horror, she realised that the Sidhe were trying to capture her in the same way.

She shouted for Lancelot, but the Sidhe woman thrust out her hand and Melora's cry for help became no louder than a whisper.

The woman seized Melora's wrist and two flying creatures zoomed out of the shadows to grab Melora's hair.

In a panic, Melora twisted away from them, but in her haste she lost her footing.

With a shriek she tumbled over the edge of the waterfall and down into the fast flowing water below.

The Sidhe had had no time to block the sound of Melora's scream and Lancelot awoke.

He was just in time to see the Sidhe woman change back into her normal form and as he drew his dagger, the three flying creatures buzzed into his face.

He slashed at them, without making any contact, but somehow he managed to dodge round them and race towards the waterfall.

Far below he had a fleeting glimpse of Melora as she surfaced for a second, before disappearing again into the foam below.

Lancelot threw himself over the precipice and plunged down into the churning water.

Through a swirl of green water and bubbles, he searched for the princess, but he could see nothing.

Surfacing, he gasped one breath, then dived down again into the murk.

The current was dragging him away from the base of the falls and out of the shadows. Ahead, he glimpsed Melora's feet.

It was lucky that she was barefoot and dressed in breeches for had she been wearing a dress, Lancelot knew such a garment would already have dragged her under.

As it was, she was trying to swim with the current, kicking hard to try and keep her head above water. But she was already tiring.

The water was far colder than the sun-warmed shallows of the pool above and its chill was already seeping into Lancelot's blood.

Rather than fight to keep his head up, Lancelot took a breath and swam underwater towards Melora.

As he reached her, she was sinking. She was losing her battle with the river.

Lancelot grabbed her under the arms and with all his strength propelled them both towards a fallen tree.

He clutched at the branches dangling into the water and pulled them both towards the bank.

Once he could stand, he lifted Melora from the cold river and laid her on the grassy bank. His chest heaving, he flopped down beside her and he tried to catch his breath.

Then, still gasping for air, he struggled to his knees and bent over Melora.

Her eyes were closed, but as he lifted her head, she coughed violently, spewing river water out onto the ground.

"Oh, thank the Gods," gasped Lancelot, "I thought you were gone. I thought I'd lost you."

Melora opened her eyes. She coughed again, but between coughs she managed to tell Lancelot what had happened

"The Sidhe, Lancelot. They came to take me to their tower. I was so frightened. I tried to call you but…."

"Hush," said Lancelot, stroking her wet hair from her face, "they are gone. They will not have you while I am here to protect you."

He shook his head," I should never have allowed myself to sleep. I am so sorry, so very sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

Melora coughed again, "Not your fault," she wheezed, "but I thought I was going to drown."

She started to shiver violently and Lancelot pulled her up from the ground and wrapped his arms around her.

She clung to him leaning her cold cheek against his shoulder and pressing one freezing hand against his chest.

Lancelot rubbed her back through her sopping shirt and held her tightly against his body, trying to warm her. The blankets and towels they had brought with them were a long trek above them with the horses and already the sun was getting low in the sky. The warmth of the day was fading. Even in Avalon, the higher ground could get cold at night.

Lancelot looked up at the glistening stream of water crashing down to the river. It was lucky that both of them hadn't drowned. There would certainly have been no magic boat to save them here.

But then Lancelot found himself wondering if he COULD drown. Maybe no matter what happened to him, his immortal blood would keep him safe. Melora however, had no such advantage. All she had to shield her from the dark magic was Lancelot himself and he had failed her.

As the shadows lengthened further, Melora could not stop shivering.

Lancelot could feel her breath on his neck and he allowed himself a fleeting moment to enjoy the feeling of another's body against his own. It had been so long since he had held a woman in his arms and longer still since he had been touched by someone for whom he actually had feelings.

From the spirit world, he had watched lovers strolling hand in hand through summer meadows, seen men kiss their wives and hug their children and he had felt an almost unbearable longing for some sort of physical contact. But he had been trapped behind the veil, able only to reach out, but never to touch.

Now, for a few moments he had a beautiful girl in his arms, a girl who if he was totally honest with himself, had stolen his heart.

But she was not for him and with a sigh of resignation he accepted that friendship was all that could ever be between them.

He should let her go and they should return to the palace.

But as he began to loosen his hold, Melora spoke.

"You saved my life Lancelot. You saved me for the second time. How can I ever thank you? You are like no other man I have ever known"

She looked up into his eyes.

"Oh Lancelot, I know that you probably think that I am not old enough…not worldly enough, probably not pretty enough….I mean you could have any woman you wanted and the fairy women are….are just so beautiful and I see tham watching you…and maybe you….watch them too, but, but I…..I love you!"

For a few seconds Lancelot was stunned by Melora's admission. Then for a few more seconds he tried to find the resolve to push her away. But instead he allowed himself to forget all the reasons why he could not be with Melora and putting his hand under her chin, he lifted her face to his and kissed her.

Melora's lips were still cold from the water and yet they warmed Lancelot as nothing else could have done. He felt dizzy as if this was all a dream, but he also felt alive. He was no longer a spirit but a living breathing being who despite his mother's immortal blood, had human wants and desires, desires which he had denied for too long.

How long they kissed Lancelot would never be able to say, but suddenly he knew he had to stop.

He was in love with Melora, but nothing could ever come of it and just by kissing her, he was letting down all those who would have expected so much more of him.

With great reluctance, he tried to put some distance between them.

"Melora, I…..we…we mustn't…."

"Why," she asked, looking bewildered and confused.

"You kissed me. Don't you like me…..not even a little bit?"

The expression on her face made Lancelot feel truly awful. He was leading her on, making her think that they could have a future together when he knew that they could not.

He tried to find the words to tell her, but instead he found himself admitting his feelings for her.

"Melora, you are the sweetest, most beautiful girl, I have ever known. How you can think that the fairies are more lovely than you, I cannot imagine. Their beauty is wild and magical, but yours is warm and human and real. When the sun shines on your hair, it is as if it were made of spun gold and your eyes as blue are as sapphires. You are exquisite and no man with eyes in his head could fail to be attracted to you. As for me….my feelings for you are…..Oh, I just don't know what to tell you. I think about you all the time….sometimes I think that you are ALL I think about. When I see you, I am filled with happiness.

But you are the daughter of the King of Albion. You are a princess and your parents sent you to this island to be made well, not for….." he shook his head again, "not for…. this! Your father and mother must be longing for your return and when you go home to Camelot, some king or prince or lord will make you a proper, husband. I am not worthy to be more than your protector and your servant."

"But you are! You are the greatest and most noble knight of all. Those very words are carved at the foot of your statue."

Lancelot was taken aback.

"Statue? What statue?"

"The statue in the great courtyard of Camelot. Surely I must have told you about it. It was raised after the last battle against Morgana, when you saved my father's life.

Father commissioned it in memory of all those who fell and as a 'thank you' to you. When the stone mason was carving it, I went every day to tell him how to do your face…..and it does look like you. It really does. You are a hero in Albion, Lancelot. No man is held in higher regard."

Lancelot was astonished. After all that had happened, it seemed unimaginable that Arthur had caused a statue to be raised in his likeness, and in the very heart of his kingdom.

"I don't know what to say," he said, honestly, "except that I did no more for your father than any of his knights would have done. Any one of them would gladly have given their life for him."

"But they didn't, did they? YOU saved him, first by walking through the veil into the world of the dead and then by putting yourself in the path of Morgana's arrow. Not only that,' continued Melora, earnestly, "your mother is the ruler of this huge island, and is surely a more powerful queen than any ruler in the five kingdoms.

If you are her son, then just as I am a princess, so you are a prince."

Lancelot found that he could not deny her logic. However he could not believe that this really changed anything.

He put forward another argument.

"It doesn't matter if I am a prince or not, Melora. I cannot go to Camelot. I cannot walk on any part of the five kingdoms….at least not in your time. My place there is gone. If you and I were to wed, you would have to remain here for ever."

At the mention of marriage, Melora's eyes lit up.

"You would marry me?" she asked, eagerly.

Lancelot smiled sadly.

"If my life were different…if I were…." He searched for the right word, 'truly 'human', I would make myself worthy of your hand. But I am not. I am different. I am…not what your father would want for his only daughter."

But still Melora would not be put off.

"Lancelot, there have been men who have tried to court me but very few of them have even vaguely caught my interest. Now I am here, I know why. All my life I have been looking for someone like you and now I don't have to look any more. Don't you understand? I was always looking for you. I have always loved you."

Reluctantly, Lancelot stood up He held out his hand and pulled Melora to her feet.

"Come," he said, "we must go back to the palace. I must speak with my mother and seek her council. However, I feel sure that she will say that you must return to Camelot and though I love you, I cannot go with you."

By the time they reached the palace, darkness had fallen. Normally by this time they would be seated at the high table enjoying dinner with the Lady Vivienne, but she had been gone for several days and so there were no guests and no formal meal.

On such occasions Melora would sometimes eat in her room, but tonight she followed Lancelot into the great hall. Together they helped themselves to the food that had been laid out by the winged servants and then they found an empty table in a dark, corner.

As it was so late most of the dwarves had left, but if the few still eating thought it strange that Lancelot and the princess were not sitting on the top table, no-one appeared to find it worthy of comment.

Lancelot and Meloraa sat side by side, close enough for their arms to touch as they ate, but both afraid that anyone would notice the change in their relationship.

Only when they were alone in the hall did they once again dare to discuss their predicament and even then only in whispers.

Finally, Lancelot walked Melora to her room. At the door he took her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers.

But Melora was having none of it. As Lancelot stepped back she flung her arms round him and held him tight. Lancelot scanned the corridor and listened for the faint rustle of fairy wings. But there was no one close by. He pulled Melora into the shadows and kissed her, privately certain that he would never get another chance. When she returned, his mother would almost certainly forbid it.

In Camelot it was still summer and so although it was evening, the sun had yet to set. Gwen was sitting by a window, watching the sky darken and thinking of her daughter.

It had been several months since the strange boat had taken her daughter to Avalon. Every day she hoped for news that Melora had been healed, but none ever came.

Whenever she asked Merlin, he would only say that when the time was right news would come and until that day, she should not worry.

But that was easier said than done and Gwen missed Melora more with every passing day.

Surely it couldn't be much longer. Already a few of the leaves on the trees were changing colour. Soon enough the rest would follow and Autumn would be upon them.

As she gazed out across the lower town, she saw Rehan, the white owl flying over the rooftops. She wondered where was the bird going. Probably just hunting, she surmised.

But had she been able to follow the bird further she would have seen the owl fly off in the direction of Avalon.

From her balcony Melora watched Lancelot striding down the jetty, towards the boat. If she could have caught him, she would have run after him. She had barely slept the night before and now she had nothing ahead of her but a long empty day, wondering if she was finally in reach of all her dreams or if her dreams were about to be shattered forever.

Half of her was longing for the Lady's return, while the other half dreaded it. If Lancelot was right in his assessment of the situation, then their days together could soon be over. She would have to face a long and lonely future without the only man she had ever loved.

The day seemed to crawl by, but long before dinnertime, Celdine came to tell Melora that the Lady Vivienne had returned. Melora hurried down to the jetty to wait for the boat. She had to speak to Lancelot before he saw his mother. Maybe she could persuade him to keep their true relationship a secret for a little while longer.

To make the time pass, she sat on a wooden bench and began to sketch the scene in front of her with charcoal. But she found herself drawing not the water and the trees but Lancelot himself standing in the prow of the boat. As she finished her drawing the boat sailed into view.

As Lancelot leapt ashore with the rope, it was all Melora could do, not to throw herself at him.

"She's back," she told him breathlessly, "The Lady Vivienne has returned."

Lancelot grimaced.

"Then I will have to go and speak with her," he said grimly.

Melora shook her head.

"No, no! I don't think you should! If nobody knows then we can still spend time together. Nobody watches where we go or what we do and if you don't draw attention to me, maybe your mother will forget about sending me back to Camelot."

Lancelot shook his head.

"Melora, I must tell my mother the truth. We cannot sneak around and hope that no one will notice us. What would your father think? He would be appalled! No, if we are to have any chance of a future together I HAVE to tell my mother of my feelings for you. Anything else would be dishonest and deceitful.'

Melora bit her lip. Of course Lancelot was right. But why did he have to be so honourable? Why, just for once, could he not do what he wanted, without worrying about the opinions of others.

"Well, you will tell her that I really love you, won't you….I mean really, really love you, that you are the only man I have EVER loved and…'

Lancelot pressed his fingers against her lips.

"My love, I will tell the truth. It is all I can do. It is up to her to decide what happens after that."

As Lancelot approached Lady Vivienne's rooms one of her fairy servants opened the door.

"Your mother is waiting for you," she said, before disappearing down the corridor.

Lancelot swallowed hard and wiped his hands on his trousers. His mouth was dry and his hands were clammy. He craved his mother's approval more than he had ever done before and yet he was so certain that he would be disappointed.

As he entered the room, his mother came towards him and kissed him on the cheek. The Lady smiled, "Why do you look so worried, my son?

Lancelot swallowed again. "May I speak with you….My lady….Mother?"

"But of course. Come, sit down and tell me what is on your mind."

Lancelot slumped down onto a couch.

"Melora! Melora is on my mind….morning, noon and night. I love her and she loves me and I cannot think about anything else. If we could, we would wed, but we cannot. I loved her mother once. What would Gwen think? What would Arthur think? He would think I only wanted Melora because I couldn't have her mother and it's not true…..not true at all…but no-one would believe it…..it's all hopeless!"

Lancelot had planned a long and eloquent speech about how he and Melora had fallen in love but somehow he had not been able to stop himself blurting out his true feelings in one desperate sentence.

Now he looked up at his mother and waited for her to confirm what he thought he already knew.

For a moment she said nothing. Then she sat down beside him and took his hand.

"Dear Lancelot, my son, why do you look so unhappy? Did you really think I was unaware of your feelings for Melora? Anyone with eyes in their head could see how much you love her. Every time you look at her, it is written all over your face."

Lancelot thumped his hand against his forehead.

"Am I really so transparent? But please believe me, nothing untoward has happened between us. It was not even until yesterday that I declared my love for her and then only after she nearly drowned in the Silver River. I know that I should not have said anything, but, by all the gods….I know it was wrong, but I just couldn't stop myself."

Lady Vivienne bent her head so that she could look into his eyes.

'My son, you have nothing to apologise for. You were always meant for Melora and she for you. I only wonder that it took you so long to realise. She has loved you since she was eight years old."

At first Lancelot did not seem to hear.

"You gave me the task of keeping Melora safe and instead I…..What?….What did you say? We were meant for each other? How? How can that be when I was born so many years before her? How, when the first woman I ever loved was her mother?"

"Lancelot, everything that has happened in your life has happened for a purpose. You are part of the past and the future. Your destiny was decided long ago. I was always meant to meet your father and your birth is part of the story of this world…..the world of magic and the world of humans. Arthur is 'the once and future king' yet without your intervention in his life, he would have died many years ago. He would never have married, never have had children and the five kingdoms would have been bereft of their saviour. He owes you more than he will ever know.

He will not seek to prevent you marrying his daughter. His children mean the world to him and he only wants them to be happy. He will not doubt your love for Melora either and though he would keep her close to him forever, he will realise that she must make her own life and carve her own path in the world.

He remembers you only with regret, regret that he never got to thank you properly for everything you have done for him. He hates himself for having been duped by the 'false' Lancelot for not knowing the difference, for doubting Gwen's love for him. You saved his life twice, Lancelot. How could you not be a worthy husband for his lovely daughter?"

"But what about Gwen? She will never understand how I could transfer my feelings from her to her daughter. She will think it…..unnatural, strange….I am too old. I am….."

"Lancelot! Listen to yourself! Did not Gwen once tell you that as long as she lived her feelings for you would never fade? And did not those feelings fade? She was always Arthur's, always. But you also have a place in her heart. You saved Arthur. You gave her the life she now has. By your selfless actions you gave her everything, she desired. It is that she remembers, when she thinks of you. That is why she will always care so deeply for you. She will understand.

As to your age…..just look in any mirror. You are the perfect age and you will never change. How many young women are saddled with men twice their age? How many have to watch an older husband die or nurse him in his dotage? Melora will have a man who is forever in his prime."

She smiled at him.

"See yourself for the man you are, my son. Melora could find no finer husband if she searched the five kingdoms for a thousand years. So, go and write a letter asking for her hand and when you receive Arthur's answer, plan your wedding. It will not take place in Camelot, for you cannot go there, but you can be married here and your greatest friends can be here to celebrate by your side. Leon, Gawaine and Percival and their wives, they may all come here safely and Melora may invite her parents and her brothers and their wives. Of course, Merlin will come as well. It is high time he knew that he may travel to Avalon whenever he wishes. The power of this island can do him no harm. As for the others? Well let's just say that I can protect them.'

Then Lancelot began to smile.

He got up and pulling his mother to her feet, hugged her. It was the first time he had ever done such a thing and the Lady's eyes filled with tears. Finally Lancelot was treating her as any son would treat his mother. He would never forget his mortal stepmother but at last the Lady Vivienne knew that she too had a place in his heart.

In Camelot, dawn was breaking as Rehan, the white owl flew over the castle walls and through the open door of the stables.

Already Porrig, Master of the King's Horses, was filling mangers with hay and oats.

As the owl alighted on its normal perch, it dropped a tightly rolled scroll of paper at Porrig's feet. The scroll was tied with green ribbon, sealed with green wax.

Leaving his son to oversee the sleepy grooms, only now beginning to emerge from their beds, Porrig hurried across the courtyard to the royal apartments.

As he mounted the steps, he met Merlin coming the other way.

Merlin's long hair was tangled and his clothes creased. Porrig guessed that the sorcerer had spent the night asleep at his workbench, surrounded by potions and books.

Merlin greeted him cheerily.

"You have news for the king."

Porrig did not stop to wonder how Merlin could know of the scroll but handed it over straight away.

Merlin beamed.

"This will be good news," he told Porrig, "I just know it."

Then he hurried away to the royal apartments.

Lancelot and Melora had each written their own letter. Both letters asked, or in Melora's case begged, for permission for them to marry. However whereas Melora's letter praised Lancelot and extolled all his fine qualities, Lancelot's letter pointed out all the reason's why Arthur and Gwen might not think him a suitable match for their daughter. He was, as always, humble and self-deprecating. However, nobody reading his letter could have doubted his love for Melora.

Arthur took only minutes to make up his mind. He knew that when Melora had set her heart on something something, nothing would change her mind.

Nevertheless, he knew that his decision was not the only one that mattered.

He watched Gwen's face carefully as she first read then re-read both letters.

"What do you think, my love?" he asked.

Gwen put the letters down on the table.

"Well," she began, "I never would have expected this…. I mean… Lancelot? If he had not walked through the veil, he would be as old as we are….old enough to be Melora's father!"

"But he isn't, is he?" countered Arthur. "He can never grow old. His mother is immortal. He is no ordinary man."

Gwen shook her head. "He was never ordinary, Arthur…..never that."

For a moment she was silent and Arthur guessed that she was remembering the days, so long ago, when briefly, she had loved Lancelot.

What would have happened, Arthur wondered, if Lancelot had not stepped aside for him? Lancelot had sacrificed himself for Arthur on more than one occasion, but this one thing was, in retrospect, probably Lancelot's greatest sacrifice. Surely now, Arthur could not deny this man a chance at happiness.

"Melora has always dreamed of Lancelot, hasn't she?"

Gwen was looking at the letters again.

"She idolised him from the very first day she met him. But is idolising someone the same thing as loving someone?"

Arthur could see that Gwen was hesitating. What was she really thinking? Did she still have feelings for Lancelot herself? He felt a moment of jealousy and then quashed it immediately. His own stupidity, his failure to declare his love for Gwen and ignore the opinions of others, was the only thing that had driven her into the arms of Lancelot. Arthur knew that Gwen loved him and had always loved him…..with all her heart. She was not hesitating because she still had feelings for Lancelot. It was something else.

"What is it, Gwen? You know Lancelot is the most honest and honourable of men and we know that Melora has set her heart on marrying him. His age is of no consequence…..you must see that. So what is it that bothers you?"

Gwen chewed her thumb. "It's just…oh, this is going to sound so….so arrogant. It's just that I wonder if he wants Melora because he couldn't have…..me. There, I've said it and it sounds awful."

But Arthur could understand the way she was thinking and he told her so. But he also pointed out that of all their children, Melora was in fact the least like Gwen.

"It's me she takes after, Gwen. You know that. She is just as stubborn and impetuous as me. In fact, in many ways she is the exact opposite of you. If Lancelot has fallen in love with her, then I am sure he loves her for herself and not just because she is your daughter."

Gwen's expression brightened.

"You are right, of course you are. I am just being stupid. We must say 'yes'. I want Melora to be happy more than anything in the world."

"Then you had better call the court dressmaker. Once we give our permission, this marriage will go ahead immediately and I know you will want a new dress."

Gwen did not need to be told twice. She kissed Arthur and walked to the door.

"I can hardly wait to see Melora again," she said happily.

"So you are telling me that although we will spend seven days and seven nights on a magical island, the soil of which is supposedly toxic to humans, we will not be in any danger. Not only that but we will only be away from Camelot for the time it will take us to ride to the lake of Avalon and back? That does not make sense at all."

Arthur looked perplexed, but Merlin shrugged. "That is the information I have been given and I have no reason to doubt it. Most of what we think we know about Avalon is based on myth and legend. I think that the island may be quite different from what we are expecting. I trust the Lady Vivienne and I am sure you do too…..don't you?"

Arthur nodded, slowly, "Yes, but, it does sound weird doesn't it?"

He grinned. "A bit like you really!"

After a day of hard riding, the wedding guests spent a night in the forest and then rising early the next day, set off for the final part of the journey to the lake.

As they dismounted, Leon rubbed his cold hands together.

"You can tell Autumn is here, " he said.

He turned to Merlin.

"Is it really always summer on the island?"

"So I've read," answered Merlin, "although what I am really looking forward to, is finding out the truth about the place. The first time I saw it the island appeared tiny, with no habitations but the Sidhe Tower, rising out of the mist. But the second time I was there, when Arthur and I flew on Kilgharrah's back to rescue Bo, the island looked huge and there was an enormous palace close to the shore."

"Amazing," said Leon.

Then he frowned, "Are you absolutely sure that Sir Edgar will be alright taking charge of Camelot? There is so much going on at the moment."

Merlin put his hand on Leon's shoulder. Leon was the King's Lieutenant and it was rare of for both he and Arthur to be absent from Camelot at the same time.

"Leon, trust me. Everything will be fine. Every minute we are on the island, agents of the Lady of the Lake will watch over Camelot. Just relax and enjoy the next seven days."

"Next seven days? You said we would be only be gone for three! I thought that would mean a very rushed wedding and I thought you must have made a mistake. But I can't be away from Camelot for….."

"Leon, Leon, calm down. You and all of us are about to embark on a magical journey to see our old friend, Lancelot marry Melora. It will be amazing. Please, just for a little while, forget your responsibilities and just enjoy the adventure."

Leon grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry, Merlin. I know, after all these years, that I should accept that you have everything under control. I am looking forward to this, really I am and my wife? Well as you can see, she just can't wait to get there."

He chuckled. "Weddings! Women love them don't they? Any excuse for a new dress!"

Porrig had accompanied the wedding guests to the woodland on the shore of the Lake of Avalon and once everyone was ready, he gathered the horses together and set up a line between two trees on to which he tethered all the animals.

He approached Arthur and bowed.

"I will wait here Sire, until you return. I have provisions for the horses for at least four days but should you be delayed, my son will arrive will arrive with more."

Arthur thanked him but assured him that they would be gone for just a few hours.

Privately, Arthur wondered how this would be possible, but after so many years in which magic had been the constant backdrop to his life, he was content that everything would turn out exactly as Merlin had predicted.

The wedding guests gathered on the shoreline of the lake and looked out over its grey waters.

It was nearly midday, but the sky was leaden. The autumn days were already shortening and the morning had started cold and damp.

Joanna, leant into Percival.

"Where is the island?" she asked, "All I can see is water."

Percival frowned.

"I can't see it either and I have to admit that when I tried to find this lake on my own, I got hopelessly lost."

"You? Lost? Why Percy you are one of the finest trackers I have ever known!"

Percival looked shamefaced.

"What can I say? It was one of the worst days of my life. Merlin and Arthur were missing and I thought that Morgana had tortured Gawaine to death. I just couldn't think straight."

"This place is meant to be hard to find," said Merlin, overhearing their conversation. "That is why there are no houses near the shores of the lake."

Joanna suppressed a shiver.

"I am not surprised. I don't think I would choose to live here."

Merlin could understand why Joanna felt that way. The shores of the lake were not inviting and the waters were a dull grey colour that seemed to leach the colour out of all the surrounding vegetation. It was a place of mystery and strange unsettling echoes.

He stepped down to where the water lapped against the sand and stones and stretched out his hand towards the rippling waves.

As he spoke a mist began to cover the surface of the lake. If anything the land nearest the water became even gloomier, but from the mist, came the boat.

One man stood at the helm, but the boat was propelled by neither oar nor sail. It just came forward at speed, not stopping until it grated against the shore.

Then the boatman greeted Merlin and invited everyone to board.

"I suggest you all avoid getting your feet wet," he said, "it will be cold when we get to Avalon."

Leon turned immediately to Merlin.

"Thought you said it was always 'summer' on the island."

Merlin looked at him blankly.

"I thought it was," he said, "at least that is what I have read and it is what Melora says in her letter."

He looked questioningly at the boatman, but Kay only winked at him and continued to help everyone get settled comfortably in the boat.

"There are fur cloaks for you all," he told them, "I suggest you put them on, because you will need them for our destination."

It was Arthur's turn to complain.

"Merlin, you said the island was ALWAYS warm!"

Merlin scratched his head.

"Well, it seems I was wrong! Still, at least we have warm cloaks. Lets just see how things go, shall we? Remember apart from our rather terrifying visit to the Sidhe's tower, neither of us, have ever really set foot on Avalon. Let's just get there and see how the land lies."

Arthur made a face, but it was a cheerful face and Merlin knew that Arthur would not care if the island was encased in ice, just as long as he got to see his beloved daughter, walking and happy again.

Merlin looked up at the gathering clouds and as the boat moved out towards the centre of the lake, a cold breeze ruffled his clothes

No-one knew how long the boat trip would take, but everyone hoped it would not be long, because as the shoreline faded from view the temperature plummeted, like a stone and the light began to fade. It was as if evening was already coming.

The women huddled together under the fur cloaks while the men tried to pretend that they did not notice the chill.

However, as they saw lights up ahead, the first snowflakes began to fall.

Merlin held out his hand in amazement and the icy crystals landed softly on his fingers. He began to wonder if any of the things he had read about Avalon were true at all. On one point at least, he had most definitely been misinformed. It clearly was NOT always summer on the Island of Avalon.

The lights from the palace blazed out across the water and as Gwen strained her eyes for her first real look at the island, she saw two figures silhouetted against the glow.

One of them raised a hand in greeting and she knew straight away that it was her daughter.

"Melora," she shouted, "Melora!" and back came the answer, "Mother!"

The minute the boat docked against the jetty, Gwen was trying to climb out and before Arthur could help her, someone took her hand.

Lancelot stood back then and watched as Melora threw herself into the arms of her mother and then as the others climbed from the boat, tried to hug her father and brothers all at the same time.

Lancelot would not have presumed to be part of this reunion, but as he stood to one side, Percival came forward and placed a strong arm around his shoulders.

"Lancelot," he grinned, "it is good to see you after so long."

"That it is," agreed Gawaine, coming to join them, "and still looking so bloody young and fit. Just standing next to you makes me feel a hundred years old!"

Then, even though the snow was coming down ever more heavily and coating them all in white, everyone was laughing and talking at once.

Eventually however, someone suggested that it would be more sensible to continue their reunions, indoors.

When everyone had, had time to change and relax, it was time for dinner and the guests were welcomed into the great hall.

By this time they had got used to the flying servants but with the exception of Merlin and Arthur, they were all stunned into silence when their hostess entered the room.

Her beauty was, as always, breathtaking.

It was over dinner that Lady Vivienne explained the unexpected weather.

It was true, she told the assembled visitors, that normally it was always summer on the island. However it seemed that even Avalon had, at some point, to have a time to renew itself. When that time came, winter would come. In one day the leaves would fall from the trees and the vegetation would die back. Then the snow would begin to fall. During that time the power of the island would lie dormant and the Sidhe would retreat far underground into the warmth of their tunnels. For that reason at this time it was quite safe for humans to walk upon the soil of Avalon and none needed special protection to do so.

"Winter comes but rarely," she said with a smile, "but what better time could there be for my son to be married, for all his truest and dearest friends can be beside him."

As the wedding guests awoke the following day, they woke to a winter, wonderland. The snow lay thickly as far as they eye could see, but the sky was a dazzling blue and a winter sun made everything sparkle and glitter.

Breakfast was served and then everyone began to don their finery for the afternoon ceremony.

Once dressed, as was customary, the men gathered to drink in the long gallery, while the women gathered in the bride's rooms, helping her to dress and to do her hair.

Gwen was a little disappointed that she had not had the chance to help make her daughter's dress but when she saw what Melora was wearing, she knew that there was nothing she could have improved upon.

The dress was a silvery white colour and the material finer than anything Camelot could have produced. While leaving Melora's shoulders bare it had long sleeves that were encrusted with tiny sparkling stones. Gwen surmised they could only be diamonds and she could not imagine the cost of such a garment. Other stones were scattered over the rest of the dress and round on her head she wore a crown of ivy and white flowers.

She looked every inch, the perfect winter, bride.

When everything was ready, with the exception of Melora, the women went down to join the men in the gallery. The winged servants then led everyone into the great hall.

Arthur did not go with them. He went alone to Melora's rooms.

He knocked softly on the door and on her answer let himself in.

His daughter waited for him.

Melora had always been beautiful but, having only brothers to play with, she had always been something of a tomboy. Now, dressed in her wedding finery, she looked dazzling.

'How do I look?" she asked, a trace of nervousness in her voice.

Arthur smiled. "With the exception of your mother, I have never seen a lovelier bride in my entire life."

Melora seemed to relax a little, but then her expression became more serious.

"Father," she asked, "you are happy that I am marrying Lancelot aren't you? I mean …even though I will have to live here and I will not get to see you very often."

"It is perfectly fine," Arthur told her, "We will miss you, but I always knew that at some point you would move away from Camelot. It is the lot of women to follow their men, I'm afraid."

"But are you and….and…. Mother, happy that Lancelot is to be my husband?"

Arthur paused before he answered. Just how much Melora knew about the days, when Lancelot had loved Gwen, he was not sure. He had certainly never spoken to her about it and as far as he knew neither had his wife.

What he did know however was that this was not the time to start discussing such things.

He decided to ignore the question she was really asking. There could be no point in dragging up the past. Those days were long gone.

"Lancelot is the finest, bravest, most honourable man I have ever known," he said, firmly, "and no man could want a better son-in-law."

Melora smiled then, a look of relief on her face. She took her father's arm and together they walked down to the hall.

Lancelot stood on the raised platform at the far end of the great hall. Next to him stood Percival, grinning form ear to ear.

"Never thought Gawaine would get married," he said, cheerily, but now its only you waiting to tie the knot."

"What about Merlin?" asked Lancelot.

"I meant amongst the four of us knights," Percival explained.

A shadow crossed his face for an instant.

"After what happened to Merlin the last time he got close to someone, I don't think he will ever marry."

He grinned again, as he tried to shake away a sad memory. "I think he is wedded to his books," he said, "he certainly sleeps with them often enough!

Oh look Lancelot! Here she comes! My, what a beautiful bride! I can hardly believe I used to haul her out of the mud by the duck pond when she and Merri used to sail their toy boats."

For a moment Lancelot was envious. Percival had known Merlora her whole life, while apart from the two days Lancelot had spent with her when she was still only eight years old, he had known her only a few months. Percival probably knew Melora better than he did.

But then Lancelot reminded himself that if he had known her all her life they would almost certainly not be getting married. Had magic not intervened in his life he would have been far too old for the eighteen year old princess.

As Melora came towards him on the arm of her father, the fairies began to sing. Their voices were so enchanting, that they brought tears to the eyes of the assembled guests.

As Melora walked, her jewelled dress caught the light and she glittered, as beautiful as the frosty landscape outside.

On the platform Arthur placed Melora's hand in Lancelot's and then went back to join the main congregation and stand beside Gwen.

The Lady herself, resplendent in green, conducted the ceremony and when she declared the bond had been made that joined two hearts forever, Lancelot kissed Melora and everyone began clapping and cheering.

Led by the bride and groom the guests retired to the gallery while the tables and food were laid out in the hall. Then everyone sat down to the most lavish banquet anyone had ever attended.

When the food was cleared away there was music and dancing and as the short day rapidly faded into darkness, the snow began to fall again and a thousand tiny lights lit up the happy faces of the wedding guests.

Finally, it was time for the bride and her ladies to leave the room.

It was customary for the ladies to help the bride out of her wedding clothes and into her nightdress and then dress the bed with flowers and herbs. Gwen was thus surprised when Melora declined any help with her dress and told everyone that she could manage well enough on her own.

"Well at least let us dress the bed," smiled Joanna, tying a bunch of herbs to the bedpost, with purple ribbon. "I have half a ton vegetation here and dried rose petals. I don't want to have brought them all for nothing!"

Melora made herself grin. "Of course, of course, you must do the bed. Please do your worst. I look forward to waking up with twigs in my hair."

Andrea laughed.

"They will suit your perfectly!" she said, "You look much too, beautiful today. You make me feel very old."

There was more laughter, but Gwen knew that something was bothering her daughter and wished that she could speak to her in private.

In the end however, she had no opportunity, for once the bed was finished, Melora opened the door for the ladies to leave.

Gwen was the last to walk to the door.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help you with your dress?" she asked.

But Melora shook her head.

"No, it's fine. I can manage."

And so finally Melora was left alone. She walked to the window and peered out into the darkness.

Enough light was spilling out from the palace windows for her to see snow covered gardens below. Even in the darkness the snow looked eerily beautiful.

She sighed. She had looked forward to this day for so long and in truth it had been a wonderful day, better than she could have imagined and yet…

There was a soft knock on the door and she heard her husband's voice.

He came into the room, closing the door softly behind him.

He gave a dramatic sigh of relief but he was smiling broadly.

"Alone at last!" he said.

Lancelot took off his jacket and shirt and dropped them on a chair. Then he sat down and pulled off his boots and socks. He too thought that it had been a wonderful day, one that he would never forget, but he was glad that it was over and that finally he could be alone with his wife. He had six more days to enjoy the company of his old friends, but for now there was only one person's company he craved.

She was still standing with her back to him, looking through the window at the falling snow.

Apart from smiling at him as he came into the room, she had not moved.

She had taken off her crown of ivy and flowers, but apart from that she was still wearing her wedding dress.

He walked over to her, put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her neck. She shivered.

"Will you…could you… undo my dress?" she asked, "I…..I cannot reach all the buttons."

She sounded different and she trembled at his touch, so much so that when he had undone but three of the tiny diamond, buttons Lancelot put his hands back on her shoulders and turned her round to face him.

The expression on her face was not what he expected.

He put his head on one side, trying to look directly into her eyes.

"What's the matter, my love?"

"Nothing….nothing…. really,"

Lancelot put his hand under her chin and lifted her face to his.

Suddenly, she looked very young.

And she was young and from what she had told Lancelot, she had little or no experience of men. Maybe this was just wedding night, nerves. He sort to reassure her.

"Please, don't look so worried," he said, softly. "I will never do anything that you do not want me to….never, ever. I only want to make you happy."

But Melora looked down again.

"I am just so afraid that I…..will…..will…..

"Will what, Melora?"

"Disappoint you."

"Melora! How could you ever think such a thing? If any one is to be disappointed tonight, it can only ever be you, my love. You think so much of me and yet I grew up as the son of a farmer. You are a princess of Camelot and more beautiful than any woman I have ever known. It is I, not you, who should be worried!"

He smiled, hopefully at her but her large eyes were still full of anxiety.

"I know what happened," she said, so quietly that he almost could not hear her.

"We have never discussed it, but I know that once you loved my mother and…..and that she loved you."

So that was the problem.

Lancelot opened his mouth to speak but Melora stopped him.

"Don't say anything," she told him, "because I know it to be true. It took me a long time to find out all the details, but eventually there was someone at the palace, who told me the whole story."

She sighed.

"Oh, I had heard about the mayhem caused when Morgana supposedly raised you from the dead, but I didn't really understand exactly what had happened. I was just told that my mother was enchanted and that neither you nor she, were in any way responsible for the events that followed.

As a child, I sensed that you and my mother were close in some way, but I was too little to understand. As I grew up, I began to realise that there was much more to the story of your so-called 'return', than I had ever been told and I'm afraid I was determined to find out all the details.

The woman who told me was a servant, just a cleaner, but she overheard conversations. What happened, when you supposedly returned to Camelot was a scandal and people love to gossip. In a place like Camelot, with so many people coming and going, there are few secrets.

My mother did love you once, I am sure of that and it seems to me that even years later, you still loved her. It was not for my father that you sacrificed yourself on the Isle of the Blessed. It was for my mother wasn't it? You loved her so much that you were ready to give up your life in order that my father could return to her. By then all she wanted was him and so you had to do what was necessary to save his life.

THAT is love, Lancelot. To give up your life so that the woman you love can marry another man. That is real undying love."

She shook her head,

"And the problem is, I know that I am not like my mother. People comment on it all the time. My brothers? Yes, they are both the image of her, but me? I am all 'Pendragon'. All I have of my mother are my curls."

She tugged at her hair, her face a picture of despair and Lancelot could not let her go on.

"Melora, please stop. Listen to me. I love you, only you. Anything else is in the past.

I cannot deny that once Gwen was everything to me, but believe it or not, it was when I first met you as a little child that I found I could at last let go of those feelings. Finally, I could love your mother as a friend and not yearn for something that in reality was there for just a fleeting moment. Yes, I was attracted to her from the day I first saw her, but she was never meant for me. When I think back to those days now, I think that it was all part of something much bigger than all of us. Call it destiny, call it fate, I believe that our futures were already decided for us, even then.

Loving your mother meant that I could not leave her to die in Hengist's prison. I had to act and in doing so I found myself again, for I had utterly lost my way.

You must know that I lied about my parentage, just to become a knight and that Uther discovered the truth. In spite of the fact that Arthur said I was more than worthy of being a Knight of Camelot, I was thrown out of the city in disgrace, for breaking the knight's code.

After that I didn't care about anything. The only thing I had ever wanted seemed then, to be forever out of my reach. I lost all my self-respect. I made my living, fighting for the amusement of rich men. I was no more than a mercenary. Seeing Gwen, imprisoned by that evil, monster of a man, gave me something to fight for, made me find the man I once was. Had we never been together in that dreadful, place, I might never have become a knight and if I had not….."

"If you had not become a knight, my father would be dead," finished Melora.

"I….I don't know. Maybe another would have taken my place…"

"Maybe, but the fact remains that it was YOU who made the ultimate sacrifice, not once, but twice. Without you I would never even have been born!"

"And there is not a day goes by that I do not thank the stars that you were born, for you have made me happier that I could ever have thought possible. I admit that I thought I was content here, before you came, but the day you arrived on the island, everything changed."

Lancelot took Melora's face in his hands.

"I love you Melora. You are everything to me. You are my life. Believe it, for I only want to live if you are by my side."

And then Melora smiled, properly.

"Really," she asked, "It truly is me that you want?"

Lancelot picked her up and carried her to the bed.

"Allow me to prove it," he said, smiling…..

In the seven days that followed, the wedding party enjoyed themselves more than they could possibly have imagined. Every day there was some new diversion to keep them amused. There were archery competitions, sleigh rides through the snow, games, plays and concerts.

What made everything even better is that everyone found that any little aches and pains they had had before they arrived on the island, just disappeared. Everyone felt younger, fitter and more optimistic.

Sometimes Arthur would have to remind himself that he was still King of Albion, for since arriving on the island he had barely given his kingdom a thought. He felt he should have worried more about what was happening in Camelot. He should have questioned Merlin at length about how they could spend seven days on the island and yet return to the shores of the lake only a few hours after the boat had collected them.

But on Avalon such impossible occurrences seemed to make perfect sense and Arthur found that he did not doubt for one minute that things would be exactly as Merlin had told him.

He did not even mind the fact that there was no hunting allowed on the island. Instead he found himself just enjoying the sight of the herds of antlered deer that roamed through the snow.

Merlin found this both surprising and amusing.

As they stood sipping hot spiced, wine by a roaring camp fire, Arthur commented on how fine the deer were and as one came close, Arthur offered the animal a piece of bread from his hand.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Arthur said to Merlin, as the stag licked the crumbs from his fingers.

"So you don't feel the need to go galloping off and murder one of the poor creature's relatives then?" asked Merlin, "This is a 'first'!"

Arthur shrugged.

"Sometimes it's just nice to look at them."

Merlin chuckled to himself. He had always known that Arthur had a soft heart.

Arthur chewed, thoughtfully at a piece of fruit.

"This place changes you, doesn't it?" he said.

Merlin shook his head.

"Not really. It just allows you to be who you really are. It brings out the best in everyone."

"In many ways, I wish we could stay longer," continued Arthur. "It's like being at Lindisfarne, only better. No affairs of state to worry about, no speeches to write…"

Merlin gave him a 'look.'

"I mean no speeches to GIVE. I know you write them. But let's face it, Merlin, you've always been very good at that and it's really not my sort of thing, is it?"

"Shall we just say that you have more important things to do," answered Merlin with a grin, "and after all these years, I mostly just rearrange the same words for all the different events."

"That's bloody cheating!"

"Yes, but you never notice and neither does anyone else."

Arthur laughed.

"Thank the Gods. And thank the Gods for you too, my friend. Without you, there would be no Camelot and," he finished, hurriedly, in case Merlin noticed the emotion in his voice, "the speeches would definitely be shorter."

Merlin laughed too. Once it had been a rare thing for Arthur to compliment him on anything.

The 'holiday' on the island came to an end all too soon and when it was time for goodbyes to be said, there were more than a few tears.

Even so, everyone had something to be happy about. Arthur, Gwen and the princes had seen Melora restored to full health and married to the man she had loved practically all of her life. The knights had been reunited with a great friend and their wives had enjoyed a truly magical experience with the people they cared for the most.

No one would ever forget their time on Avalon and in the days to come they would look back on their visit and smile.

Their memories however would remain unshared with friends and the people of Camelot.

Avalon and its secrets were for a chosen few only.

Instead, an announcement that the Princess Melora had married Sir Lancelot was made some weeks later.

Although her stay in a much warmer country, far to the south, had enabled her to walk again, it had not been thought advisable for her to travel all the way back to Camelot for the ceremony. Thus although the people of Camelot had not been able to take part in the happy day themselves, a holiday was announced and a huge banquet was arranged for all.

If Camelot's residents thought this strange, nobody worried about it for very long. A holiday was a holiday and everyone was happy to spend a day eating and toasting the health of their princess and her new husband.


End file.
